The golden light of the setting sun wrapped everything in warmth, like the universe had decided to press pause just for us. I leaned against the railing of my parents’ yacht, the salty breeze brushing my face, and watched him. Rafe. My Rafe. Almost a year together, and yet he still manages to make my heart stumble in my chest.

People only see one version of him — the hard edges, the trouble, the past he’s tried to outrun. But I’ve seen the rest. I’ve seen his eyes when he’s vulnerable, when he lets himself be soft, when he’s tired enough to drop the mask. I’ve seen him angry, broken, hopeful… loved. And God, does he love me. In a way that healed wounds he never caused. In a way that made me feel safe in a world that never really was.

He gave me a home I didn’t know I could have. He gave me a reason to wake up every morning. Rafe Cameron is my reason.

Right now, he’s in the water with my little brothers, the sound of their laughter carrying across the waves. He’s being ridiculous — splashing, diving under, making funny faces just to get them squealing. And I know, deep in my bones, that he’s never had moments like this. He never had parents who cheered him on, never had anyone who tucked him into the comfort of belonging. But here, with my family… I see the way he soaks it in. I see it in his eyes when my dad calls out to him like he’s a son, when my mom hands him a towel first, like it’s second nature.

Every so often, he glances up at me — just to make sure I’m watching. And when our eyes meet, it’s like the whole world folds down to this moment. No noise. No shadows from the past. Just him.

And I realize — this is what I want. A future where Rafe is the father of my children. Where he’s in the yard teaching them to swim, laughing that same way. Where the sun dips low and everything feels light, and safe, and ours.

The waves rock the yacht gently, the horizon painted in soft pinks and golds, and for a fleeting second, I see my entire future in front of me. And it’s perfect. Because it’s him. Always him.