The storm had passed.
Outside their window, the world was still dripping with the night's rainfall. Raindrops clung to the cherry blossoms like glass beads, and the sky wore the soft colors of early morning—peach and lavender smeared across a pale blue canvas.
Inside, everything was still. Quiet. Peaceful.
River lay on his side, facing Lila, his hand resting gently against her waist. She was already awake, eyes open, watching the light shift on the ceiling. The storm from the night before hadn't been weather—it had been them. The fight, the fears, the vulnerability—it had left them breathless. But now, in the calm afterward, there was something new between them.
Something stronger.
"Are you okay?" he whispered, voice barely breaking the silence.
She nodded. "Yeah. I am now."
He brushed her hair back behind her ear, fingers soft like a promise. "I hated fighting with you."
"I know," she said. "But… maybe we needed it."
River hesitated, then nodded. "Maybe we did."
They didn't need to rehash it. The words had already been said. The tears already shed. What mattered now was what they would do with the pieces left behind.
---
Later that day, they took a walk through the park—just like they had the first time they met. The cherry trees were in full bloom, petals falling around them like snow. The sky was clear, washed clean by the storm, and Lila felt something loosen in her chest.
"I used to think love was supposed to be perfect," she said, staring up at the blossoms.
River looked at her, his eyes thoughtful. "And now?"
"Now I think it's supposed to be real. Even when it's hard."
He slipped his fingers between hers. "We're real. And I love you for every imperfect part."
Lila looked at him—really looked—and knew she had never loved anyone the way she loved him. Not with the intensity of first love, but with the quiet, enduring kind that grew roots deep enough to hold through any storm.
---
They stopped at a bench near the riverbank. Lila pulled out a small notebook she had started keeping again—a habit she thought she'd lost.
"I want to remember these days," she said. "Not just the perfect moments, but the real ones. The mornings after. The times we almost lost each other and didn't."
River kissed her shoulder. "Write it all down. I'll be right here living it with you."
They sat in silence, and Lila began to write.
---
That evening, in the soft glow of the string lights they had hung across their tiny apartment ceiling, River cooked dinner while Lila danced barefoot across the floor to an old indie record. It was nothing extraordinary. No fireworks. No grand declarations.
Just laughter.
Warmth.
Home.
---
As they curled up together on the couch, Lila whispered, "Do you think this is what forever feels like?"
River kissed the top of her head. "No," he said with a grin. "I think this is just the beginning."