As Mia approached the familiar oak tree, she saw Ethan standing there, his back slightly turned as he gazed out at the view. The evening light highlighted the contours of his face, casting a soft glow around him. Mia could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw. He had always been the more reserved one, the one who kept his emotions close to his chest, but Mia knew him well enough to see the signs. He was nervous. And so was she.
When he heard her footsteps, Ethan turned, his expression softening as he locked eyes with her. There was a flicker of something—relief, maybe, or hope—before his face settled into a calm mask.
"Mia," he said, his voice steady but low. "You're here."
"I'm here," she replied, her heart in her throat. The words she had rehearsed so many times were suddenly slipping away from her, lost in the whirlwind of emotions. She had wanted to be strong, to say everything perfectly, but now, standing before him, everything felt so much bigger than words.
They stood there for a moment, the world around them quiet except for the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. Mia could feel the cool air against her skin, a gentle reminder that change was coming, that the moment was now.
"Ethan," she began, her voice steady but filled with emotion, "I've been thinking a lot. About everything." She paused, trying to find the words, but the weight of the moment made it harder to speak. "I've been torn between two worlds," she continued, looking down at her hands, which were suddenly trembling. "Between the past and the present. Between what I thought I wanted and what I need."
Ethan said nothing, but Mia could see the understanding in his eyes. He didn't interrupt,
didn't rush her. He simply stood there, waiting. His arms were crossed over his chest, but there was no judgment in his posture—only patience, a quiet strength that had always been his way.
"I've realized that I don't want to keep living in the past," Mia went on, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him then, her gaze unwavering. "I don't want to keep waiting for something that isn't real anymore." The words came out in a rush, as if they had been waiting to be set free. "What I have with you, Ethan—what we have—it's real. And I've been blind to that."
As soon as the words left her lips, a weight seemed to lift from her chest. The tension in her body, the knots in her stomach, seemed to dissolve with the confession. Ethan's face softened, but there was a flicker of vulnerability behind his calm exterior. He stepped forward, his gaze never leaving hers, and Mia felt something stir in her heart, something that had been missing for a long time.
"I've known," he said, his voice quiet, his words carrying a weight of their own. "I've known for a while now."
Mia's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Ethan shrugged slightly, his hands falling to his sides. "I knew you were struggling. I could see it. But I also knew that this was something you had to figure out on your own. I never wanted to pressure you."
Mia shook her head, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. "No, Ethan. You deserve
honesty. You've been my best friend, my constant, my everything. I don't want to lose that. But I also don't want to keep running from the love we've been building, the love I've been scared to let myself have."
Ethan's eyes softened as he reached out, taking her hands in his. His grip was warm and steady, grounding her in a way she hadn't realized she needed. "Mia," he said, his voice full of tenderness, "you've never had to be scared with me. I've always been here. And I always will be. But I need you to make the choice that's right for you."
For a moment, Mia couldn't speak. The weight of his words settled over her like a blanket, a promise of love and understanding that she had been searching for. She had been so afraid, afraid of losing herself, of losing something in the process of choosing, but now, in his presence, all that fear seemed unnecessary. He was right. It was time for her to make the choice.