38|Love
I quietly snuck back into the room, careful not to wake him.
The sun was just starting to rise, casting a soft golden glow across his face where he lay tangled in the sheets, one arm thrown over the empty side of the bed I'd just returned to.
I tiptoed across the room, my heart thudding with anticipation, still riding the high of everything I'd just set up.
Reservations. A private boat. His favorite food.
Even a private island.
Everything planned down to the smallest detail.
He'd been doing everything lately: holding me up, pulling me closer, reminding me what it meant to feel loved.
Now it was my turn.
I slid under the covers, curling beside him.
He stirred, groggy and warm. "Where'd you go?"
I kissed his shoulder and whispered, "Get dressed, so you can see."
...
"Nae, you're scaring me," he said as we got off the boat, his eyes nervously darting around the private dock.
I just smiled and took his hand, lacing our fingers together. "Trust me."
He narrowed his eyes at me, but I could tell by the way he tightened his grip that he already did.
We walked down the dock, the morning sun climbing higher, reflecting off the still water surrounding the secluded island.
It was quiet...peaceful in a way that felt untouched, like the world had gone still just for us.
When we rounded the bend and saw the white canopy draped over soft sand, a small table with champagne chilling beside it, his favorite meal already being prepped by a private chef, he stopped walking.
Dead in his tracks.
"Nae..." His voice cracked slightly, disbelief written all over his face. "What is this?"
I stepped in front of him, my arms wrapping around his waist. "You've been carrying everything lately. Me. Us. All of it."
He looked down at me, eyes searching.
"So today," I said, smiling softly, "I carry you."
His eyes stayed on mine, soft but steady, like he could see right through me.
Then he looked around again, at everything I'd planned, everything I'd done without ever needing to be asked, and when he turned back, his voice was quiet, but unshakable.
"This... Naomi, this is what love is."
I blinked, unsure how to respond, unsure if I could.
"You always thought it was something else," he continued, brushing my hair back. "That it was just sex. Or pain. Or chasing people who never stayed."
My chest tightened.
He wasn't wrong.
"You didn't grow up seeing this," he added, voice gentle now. "But this? What you just did? This is love."
I looked away, trying to keep my composure, but his fingers caught my chin, tilting my face back to his.
"You see me. You know me. And you still chose to do this, for me."
He smiled softly, eyes glinting with something deeper.
"That's not lust, Naomi. That's not survival. That's love."
"And I'm proud of you."
And for once, I didn't argue.
Because he was right.
And maybe for the first time... I finally understood what love really meant.
...