Amelia’s Perspective

Amelia’s eyes fluttered open, the room bathed in soft morning light. She blinked slowly, warmth flooding her chest as she met Oliver’s gaze. He looked different—tired, maybe—but his face still made her smile. She raised her hand to his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble under her fingertips.

“Hey, you,” she murmured, her voice soft, still heavy with sleep.

Oliver exhaled, his lips curving slightly. “Hello, Amelia.”

She stretched lazily, her heart light. “I just had the best dream,” she said playfully.

“Oh?” he asked. “What about?”

“About you. About the first night we met. When I saved you from the car.”

She laughed softly, remembering the way his books had scattered across the pavement. It had been raining—she could still picture the way his hair clung to his forehead, the warmth of his hand in hers.

Oliver chuckled. “I seem to remember you failed to save my books.”

Amelia gasped, feigning offense. “Hey, I bought you new ones. And I saved the love of my life from becoming a pancake. That’s gotta count for something.”

But this time, he didn’t laugh. His expression softened, his breath catching as if something fragile had broken inside him. A tear slipped down his cheek, and without thinking, Amelia reached up and wiped it away.

“Hey,” she whispered gently. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry… it’s silly,” he said, his voice shaking.

“No,” she said, frowning slightly. “Tell me. You can tell me anything.”

He hesitated, searching her face. “I’m just… happy to see you. And to hear you say that. I’ve never been anyone’s great love before.”

Amelia’s heart ached at the sadness in his voice. She pulled him closer, brushing her fingers gently through his hair. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I always thought you knew how much you mean to me.”

She held him tighter, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. For a moment, nothing else mattered — just him, just this. The man she loved more than anything. The man she believed she was always meant to love.