“Yes,” Lily replied, smiling softly.“Same time.”
As she walked home through the cool evening air, her scarf snug around her neck, Lily felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time — a quiet, growing happiness, like the river itself was carrying a secret only she and Evan shared.
And she knew, without fully understanding how or why, that tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, would be just a little brighter because of him.
Chapter 7:
Autumn Fades In
The days had grown shorter, and the early signs of autumn had settled over the riverside. Leaves, once green, were now golden, orange, and a fiery red, drifting lazily to the ground. A cool breeze wound its way along the path, carrying the faint scent of wood smoke from nearby chimneys. Lily Hart hugged her cardigan closer as she approached the river, sketchbook tucked firmly under her arm.
Evan Blake was already there, sitting in his usual spot on the bench. He looked up and smiled when he saw her, a small, effortless gesture that made her heart skip a beat.
“Evening, Lily,” he greeted, his voice carrying easily in the quiet air.
“Evening,” she replied, settling onto the bench. She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling a shiver run down her spine.
The wind had picked up just slightly, brushing through the branches overhead and stirring the river into gentle ripples. Lily pulled her cardigan tighter, trying to keep warm while keeping her composure.
Noticing her discomfort, Evan reached over without thinking, slipping his scarf around her shoulders. It was soft, warm, and smelled faintly of cedar and fresh air.
“Here,” he said, shrugging lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips.“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t.”
Lily froze for a moment, caught off guard by the intimacy of the gesture.“Thank you,” she whispered, warmth blooming in her chest beyond the scarf.
“You’re welcome,” he replied simply, as if the act was natural, inevitable. And in a way, it felt that way — as though the river, the bench, and the autumn air had conspired to bring them closer together.
For a while, they sat in companionable silence. Lily sketched the river’s edge, the fiery leaves caught in its reflection, while Evan raised his camera to capture the same scene from slightly different angles. Occasionally, their elbows brushed lightly as they shifted, each touch lingering a moment longer than necessary.
“You know,” Evan began softly,“I’ve been thinking… this hour we spend here… it’s the best part of my day. Not just because of the river, or the light, or the photos… but because of you.”
Lily’s hand froze mid-stroke. Her heart raced. She hadn’t expected such words, spoken so quietly, so sincerely.“I… I feel the same,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.
Evan’s smile widened, just slightly, and his eyes held hers for a long, unspoken moment. Neither needed to fill the silence with more words; the air between them carried everything that mattered.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the river with shades of gold and rose, Lily closed her sketchbook reluctantly. Evan lowered his camera and looked at her with that soft, easy warmth she had begun to crave.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.
“Yes,” she said, her smile quiet but certain.“Same time.”
Walking home through the cool evening air, the scarf around her shoulders felt like a tether to him — a small, tangible reminder that the quiet river bench had become something far more meaningful than she had ever imagined. And for the first time, she allowed herself to look forward to tomorrow with a little fluttering hope in her chest.
Chapter 8:
Tiny Miracles
The following evening, Lily Hart made her way along the riverside path, the cool autumn air brushing against her cheeks. Golden leaves swirled along the path, and the faint scent of wood smoke lingered in the distance. Her sketchbook was tucked under her arm, pencils peeking out of the leather loop, ready for another evening of quiet observation.
Evan Blake was already on the bench, as always. The familiar warmth of his presence greeted her before she even spoke. He adjusted his camera slightly, then looked up and smiled.
“Evening, Lily,” he said.
“Evening,” she replied, slipping onto the bench beside him. The gentle brush of his elbow against hers made her heart flutter, as always.
For a few minutes, they sat in the comfortable silence that had become their ritual. Lily opened her sketchbook and began drawing the river’s reflection of the fiery leaves overhead. Evan adjusted his camera, capturing the light glinting off the ripples, each frame a small, deliberate piece of beauty.
“You know,” Evan began softly,“I’ve been meaning to show you something.”
