After the symphony of our merged laughters faded, silence settled between us. Neither he nor I said anything. All that echoed in the room was the soft rustling of paper, the quiet pounding of cardboard on the floor when we picked up and dropped the boxes, and the rather loud and sharp sound of peeling duct tape.

We were both concentrated on our work and there was nothing to be said but... it was actually nice. Very nice.

I glanced at Oliver. His serious expression and slightly wrinkled eyebrows, pursed lips as he struggled with the wrapping paper and the tape, made me smile.

I said nothing and quietly turned my attention back to my pile of boxes.

It's strange how in just a few hours the dynamics between us had changed. Now the silence didn't bother me, it didn't make me nervous. I didn't feel it as empty and grinding.

Now the silence was filled with his presence, and that was enough for me to feel good. More than good actually!

This calm silence between us brought me peace and it was so pleasant, so pleasant that...

I could vividly imagine us sitting somewhere else, anywhere, hugged, without even a millimeter between our bodies and staring ahead of us, or in each other's eyes, enjoying the company of the other and...

"You know, this room would make a great living room," Oliver said, breaking the silence and pulling me out of the slumber of my thoughts. "The two armchairs are perfect, you know, sitting by the fireplace after dinner and chatting over a glass of wine while children are playing. Mhm. And the rest can be filled with not much furniture so to leave room for children to play. See, for example, in the place of the Christmas tree, there may be a sofa with a long tea-table in front of it, with a soft carpet underneath. And the tree itself may be placed right next to it. Yes. I can imagine the kids sitting on the carpet with scattered paper and pencils and pastels on the table and drawing unrecognisable things. Or... or they may be hugged to their father, the lights from the Christmas tree nearby are shining dimly, as the father reads them The Night Before Christmas or a Christmas carol. And there's a half-empty plate of cookies and empty glasses of milk on the table, and maybe... Yes! There may be a piano in that corner," he pointed behind me, diagonally from the Christmas tree, "and one of the kids would be playing on it, and the mother and the father would be dancing slowly, even in fast melodies, in each other's arms, staring at each other while the rest of their children run, and jump, and dance around. They have fun together and fill the room with their merry shouts, and the hearts of their parents with joy. The father and the mother seem absorbed in each other, they are at the same time in their own world, where nothing and no one but them matters, and in the present moment, where they're secretly watching over their happy kids and enjoying all the noise that they make and the life with which they fill the house. And in years to come, they may be their grandchildren, but nothing else would have changed. Yes, they may have gray hair and move more slowly, but they will look at each other and get lost in each other's eyes, as in the beginning of their story. And they'll still be in love with each other as before, and they'll still share those moments when nothing and no one else matters except them, and..."

I sniffed and that sound drew Oliver from his dreamlike state.

He looked at me. His eyes shone brightly and his wide beautiful smile had lit up his face. Oliver looked... happy, really happy, as if he had not only imagined the images he was describing, but he had lived them in his mind and... in his heart.

I gasped when the realization struck me. His imagination didn't just give him some images that could fill this room, no, no, it was... it was... Oliver had just described a possible future, his possible future, the way he dreamed it would be. The way I dreamed it would be.

I swallowed hard but it didn't help much. Actually it didn't help at all!

All this time, when he was picturing the family I wanted, and obviously the one he wanted too, I was fighting with my tears, and now... I lost the fight.

I hid my face in my hands and cried. I cried with sadness, with joy, and with burning hope inside me. I hoped so much that the images he saw that describe my dreams in detail were scenes from a future we are both in. Together.

I bit my lip and tried to push away the tears because I wasn't really sad, and even if I was, it was just a little and it wasn't a reason to cry. I was happy and hopeful and I wanted, I wanted as never before, to make these beautiful images reality with him, to fulfill them. And I wanted to tell him that, whether he would respond positively or not, although... Deep down I knew he would respond positively, I knew it!

I tried to stop my tears again, to gather some strength to speak, when... two strong hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back.

The next moment, my back rested on a warm, firm body. Oliver wrapped his arms around my stomach and pulled me even closer to him, holding me tight but gentle. And this small but clear gesture of affection demolished the dam and the river of emotions overflowed. 

I sobbed like a little child, relaxing completely on his chest, letting him comfort me as I poured out everything I had suppressed so far, good and bad. Oliver rested his chin on my shoulder and tilted his head to mine. 

At that moment I wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever.

At that moment, my tears didn't matter, they just kept flowing, washing away my mixed emotions.

At that moment, for the first time, I felt what he described - nothing and no one really mattered, except us. Only us. Oliver and I.