Lily’s cheeks warmed.“That’s… a lovely way to put it.”
“Well, it’s true.” He tapped the camera lightly.“I try to do that with photographs.”
“You look for tiny miracles, right?” she remembered from yesterday.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise.“You remembered that?”
“It was a nice thought,” she said softly.
Evan watched her for a moment — not intensely, but curiously, as though he found her presence unexpectedly soothing. Lily felt an odd rush under her skin, a warmth that wasn’t entirely from the sun.
A small boat passed by, sending ripples across the water. Evan lifted his camera again, snapped a photo, then lowered it with a satisfied hum.
“You know,” he said, looking at the river,“it’s funny. I’ve lived in this town for years, and I never noticed how beautiful this place was until yesterday.”
Lily looked up.“Yesterday?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at her briefly, then added with a shy, crooked smile,“When I saw you sitting here.”
Her heart took a tiny, startled leap.
She looked down quickly, pretending to focus on her drawing, but her hand shook just a little — enough to make her erase a line she usually would’ve left untouched.
They fell into another silence, but this one pulsed with something new — awareness, maybe. A budding gentleness neither had expected.
As the sun grew softer, Evan shifted, his knee brushing lightly against Lily’s. Neither of them moved away.
At one point, a breeze lifted a strand of Lily’s hair into her face. Before she could tuck it back, Evan reached out instinctively — then froze inches away.
“Sorry,” he murmured, letting his hand fall, cheeks slightly red.“Instinct.”
“It’s okay,” Lily whispered, tucking the strand behind her ear herself. But her chest buzzed with warmth.
Minutes later, the sky turned pink again. The river glowed, catching the colors like a mirror. Lily closed her sketchbook slowly, unsure if she wanted to leave just yet.
Evan noticed.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, voice hopeful but trying not to sound too eager.
Lily nodded, unable to stop her smile.
“Same time.”
As she walked away, she felt Evan’s gaze lingering on her just long enough to heat her cheeks.
And for the first evening in a long time, Lily didn’t go home to quiet. She went home to anticipation — a soft, humming promise that tomorrow would bring him back again.
Chapter 4:
Sketches and Snapshots
By the fourth evening, the river had begun to feel like a little world of its own — a world where time slowed and ordinary worries couldn’t find their way. Lily Hart walked along the familiar path with a soft rhythm, her sketchbook under her arm, her scarf looped loosely around her neck. Autumn was seeping into the air; the breeze carried a hint of wood smoke and damp leaves, curling around her like a promise.
Evan was already there, sitting in the same spot he had chosen on the first evening, his camera resting on his knee. His posture was relaxed, but the way his eyes scanned the river suggested he was searching for something — maybe a perfect angle, maybe a perfect moment. Or perhaps, Lily thought, he was searching for a reason to stay.
“Evening,” he greeted without standing, his smile easy and natural.
“Evening,” she replied, settling onto the bench and pulling her sketchbook onto her lap.
