The silence didn't last long.

It never did with us.

"Maya," Luke said, calm, steady, like nothing had just exploded in the middle of the group, "relax. Today's a good day."

She stared at him like she was about to either scream or cry or both.

"Let's celebrate," he added.

And before anyone could argue—before I could even process what he was doing—he stepped closer to me.

Took my drink from my hand.

Set it aside.

And then—

His hand found my hip.

Firm.

Certain.

Turning me toward him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Dance?" he asked.

Just that.

Simple.

Like everything hadn't just shifted.

Like this was easy.

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

At the calm in his eyes.

At the certainty.

At the fact that, for once—

He wasn't hiding.

"...okay," I said softly.

And just like that—

We walked to the dance floor.

—

Music filled the air, softer now, slower, wrapping around the space like a quiet invitation.

Henry and Sophia were already there, laughing, glowing, completely lost in each other.

Around us, people moved, celebrated, lived in that moment of love that weddings somehow create so effortlessly.

But for me—

There was only him.

His hand settled at my waist.

Mine rested against his shoulder.

And for a second—

We just stood there.

Close.

Breathing the same air.

Letting it all sink in.

"Are you sure about what you did?" I asked quietly as we started to move.

Not accusing.

Not doubting.

Just... asking.

He didn't hesitate.

"Yeah," he said.

A small pause.

Then softer—

"I think so."

I nodded.

That was enough.

We swayed slowly, naturally finding a rhythm we didn't have to think about.

Like everything else between us—

It just... existed.

His fingers tightened slightly against my dress.

And then I felt him lean in.

Close to my ear.

"You look unbelievable," he whispered.

My breath caught.

"And I love you," he added, softer this time.

I smiled.

Not the kind I forced.

Not the kind I hid behind.

A real one.

"I love you too."

The words came easy.

Like they had been waiting.

Like they had always been there.

And then—

He kissed me.

Soft.

Nothing like before.

No desperation.

No urgency.

Just... warmth.

Maya gasped somewhere behind us.

I almost laughed.

But when I pulled back—

All I saw was him.

Close.

Forehead resting against mine.

Both of us smiling like idiots.

"God, we were stupid," I murmured.

He huffed a quiet laugh.

"Unbelievably."

"All that time," I added. "All that fighting."

"All that pretending," he said.

I shook my head slightly.

"We could've had this way sooner."

He tilted his head, brushing his nose lightly against mine.

"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe we needed all of that to get here."

I thought about it.

About the years.

The almosts.

The pain.

The distance.

Then I smiled softly.

"...yeah. Maybe."

A small pause.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

Not joking.

Not teasing.

A real question.

I looked at him.

At us.

At everything that had just... fallen into place.

"Well," I said slowly, "you're going to have to fly more often to my state."

He hummed, like he was already thinking three steps ahead.

"Or," he said, "I could just move there."

I blinked.

"What?"

He shrugged slightly.

"I got a job offer there. Never took it."

I stared at him.

"You're serious?"

"Very."

I couldn't help it.

I smiled.

Wide. Bright. A little disbelieving.

"Are you offering yourself to my house?"

He grinned.

"If I pay rent... does that make it ours?"

I laughed softly.

"Maybe."

A small pause.

"But I don't want to live in an apartment forever."

"Good," he said immediately. "Me neither."

Another beat.

Then—

"Should we start looking at houses?"

I looked at him, amused, overwhelmed, and somehow completely okay with how fast this was moving.

"...maybe."

He smiled, that confident, already-planning smile.

"Good thing there's an architect in this relationship."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I said, smirking slightly, "I think I chose my boyfriend pretty well."

He paused.

Just for a second.

And something in his expression softened at the word.

Boyfriend.

Like he liked it.

Like it fit.

"Just so we're clear," he said, a hint of teasing in his voice, "we are planning now."

I shook my head immediately.

"No. You plan things. I just go along with them."

"That's a lie," he said.

"Oh?"

"You plan too."

I laughed, leaning a little closer, resting my forehead against his again.

"Maybe," I admitted softly. "Only the important ones."

His smile widened.

"Yeah," he said. "Those are the ones that matter."

We stayed like that for a moment.

Close.

Warm.

Real.

Around us, the wedding carried on—laughter, music, people celebrating love like it was something simple, something easy.

But for us—

It had never been simple.

And maybe it never would be.

But it was real.

And that was enough.

His hand found mine again, fingers intertwining naturally, like they had always known how.

I squeezed gently.

We moved together again, slow, effortless, like the world had quietly adjusted around us.

No pressure.

No fear.

No running.

Just this.

Just us.

And for the first time—

It didn't feel like something we had to fight for.

It felt like something we had finally allowed ourselves to have.

Maybe love wasn't about timing.

Maybe it wasn't about perfect moments or perfect plans.

Maybe it was about finding your way back—

Even after years of getting lost.

And when you finally did—

You didn't question it.

You didn't run from it.

You held on.

Because some things—

Some people—

Were worth every second it took to get there.

And as I stood there, in the middle of a wedding, in the middle of everything we used to avoid—

I realized something simple.

I didn't just find love. I found him. My other half that I tried to move on to but I never let you

I would never plan on letting go.