Alfie climbs back onto the bed next to her now, leaning lightly into her side without thinking. She automatically smooths his hair back.
No hesitation anymore.
Just… natural.
I close the suitcase slowly and watch them.
She knows Alfie likes his toast cut into squares not triangles. Knows I forget to eat when I’m stressed. Knows which cupboard the biscuits are in.
Somewhere along the way she stopped feeling like someone I was dating and started feeling like someone we were quietly making space for.
“Right,” I say. “I think I’m ready.”
Alfie jumps down.
“Can I help carry it?”
“It weighs more than you do.”
“I could try.”
Ava smiles. “You could supervise.”
He nods. “I will supervise.”
He walks out like a man with responsibility.
I wait until he disappears.
Then I look at Ava.
She looks back, that same soft look she had in her cottage doorway weeks ago.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods.
“I like this,” she admits.
“So do I.”
She reaches for my hand without really thinking.
“We are moving fast,” I say.
“Does it feel fast to you?”
I think about the photo. About Alfie leaning into her. About how normal this already feels.
“No,” I say. “Feels right.”
That smile again.
“I agree,” she says.
From the hallway Alfie shouts, “Dad! I am supervising!”
I squeeze her hand once before we go.
