He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands still cupping the back of my shoulders. His eyes move over my face as though he’s memorising every part of it
“Emma,” he says quietly, and there’s something new in his voice. Something that hums through the air between us. “I love you.”
The world stills. Completely.
The air leaves my lungs in one sharp, stunned breath. My heart stumbles, then steadies with a force that nearly knocks me backwards. For a second I can only stare up at him, every thought scattering.
And then I find the words. Quiet. Trembling. True.
“I love you too.”
Something shifts in his expression at that, something warm and fierce all at once. He exhales a shaky breath and rests his forehead against mine.
“I didn’t know love could feel like this,” he murmurs. “Like wanting to know every little thing about someone. Like you can’t imagine your life without their laugh or their stubbornness or the way they look at you when they think you’re not paying attention.” His voice drops even lower. “I didn’t know it could feel like choosing someone in every moment. Over and over.”
My eyes sting, but in the good way. The full-heart, deep-breath way.
He cups my face in both hands, thumbs sweeping just below my eyes.
“You’re it for me,” he whispers. “You always will be.”
My breath catches, but he isn’t finished. His thumb sweeps softly along my cheek, his gaze steady and unflinching.
“I know we haven’t known each other long,” he murmurs. “I know this should feel too fast, too big… but sometimes you just know. I’ve never believed that before. Not once. But with you… it’s like every part of me recognises you.”
My chest tightens, something warm and trembling blooming beneath my ribs.
His voice drops even lower. “When we heard you scream on the phone…” He swallows hard, the sound barely audible. “Emma, I thought I’d lost you. And it hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe. I’ve never been that scared in my life. Not on any rescue. Not ever. All I could think was that I couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not when I’ve finally found someone who feels like… home.”
The word lands gently but sinks deep.
He leans in, resting his forehead against mine again, his breath brushing my lips. “I love you,” he whispers, almost fierce in its tenderness. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Finally, the last of the fear breaks apart inside me, replaced by something bright and perfect and utterly wonderful.
Epilogue
Alex
Eighteen months. That’s howlong it’s been since Emma walked into my life properly. Eighteen months since everything shifted, quietly but unmistakably, until I couldn’t imagine a day without her in it. We moved in together three months after that first date under the stars. Not because I rushed her. She just… drifted into my home one night at a time until one morning we both realised she hadn’t slept at her cottage in ten days.
Renting out her place helped us pay for a spring trip to Beirut. Now we’re stamping snow off our boots in Reykjavik airport, and she’s buzzing beside me like she might float.
“Where do we catch the bus to the hotel?” she asks, fingers tightening around her rucksack straps.
“We’re not catching a bus,” I say, nudging her gently. “Got us a rental car.”
Her whole face lights up. Travelling brings out the brightest version of her, the one made of curiosity and excitement and pure joy. “You’re brilliant,” she says, already striding towards the rental desks while I savour the glow she leaves behind her like a comet trail.
An hour later we’re driving out of the city, the 4x4 humming over icy tarmac. Snow lies draped across the landscape like someone pulled a clean sheet over the world. Emma watches it with the kind of focus she reserves for sunrises and bakery windows.
“Shouldn’t we be heading into town?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“That’s it? ‘Nope?’”
“Yup.”
