The weekend getaway was everything Mia and Ethan needed and more. Life had been loud and messy lately—rushing deadlines, missed phone calls, sleepless nights filled with anxious tossing and turning. They had both been running on empty, emotionally and physically, and the idea of escaping to a quiet seaside cottage had felt like a lifeline more than a luxury.
Nestled in a secluded stretch of the coastline, the little white cottage stood like a secret waiting to be discovered. With ivy-covered walls, creaky wooden floors, and a wide front porch that opened to the sound of crashing waves, it felt like something out of a storybook. The salty breeze carried the scent of sea lavender, and the air was laced with something else—something neither of them could quite name at first, but would later come to recognize as peace.
The first morning, they didn't set an alarm. They woke to sunlight gently warming the covers and the rhythmic lullaby of the tide. With sleepy smiles, they shared coffee on the porch, wrapped in old flannel blankets, saying little but feeling everything. It was the kind of silence that only existed between people who truly knew one another—the comfortable, quiet kind that said I'm happy you're here.
They spent their days meandering along the rocky coast, collecting smooth stones and tiny pieces of sea glass. Sometimes they laughed, chasing each other across tidepools, and other times they simply walked hand in hand, letting the hush of the sea fill in the spaces between words. They rediscovered each other in small, forgotten ways—in the way Mia tilted her head when she was curious, or the way Ethan absentmindedly hummed when he was content.
In the evenings, the world seemed to slow even more. The sky would melt into soft streaks of peach and rose, the stars blinking to life one by one. They cooked simple dinners, sharing forks and stories at the tiny kitchen table, and afterward, they'd curl up by the fireplace, legs tangled beneath a single blanket, talking about everything and nothing. Dreams. Fears. What they wanted their future to look like. They didn't talk about timelines or logistics. Just feelings. Just hopes.
It was on the third night, after a particularly long walk and a lazy dinner of fresh seafood pasta, that Ethan felt the time was right. The moment had been building quietly in his heart for months, maybe even years, but the peace of this place and the light in Mia's eyes told him—now.
"Come with me," he said softly, standing from the couch and reaching for her hand.
Mia looked up at him, curious. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
He led her outside, barefoot, down the little trail behind the cottage that opened up onto a secluded cove. The moon had already begun to rise, casting a silver shimmer across the water. The sky above was an inky canvas, dusted with stars, and the waves kissed the shore with a quiet rhythm that seemed to echo the beating of his heart.