The award show was over. Glittering gowns, champagne flutes, and camera flashes had faded into the velvet of night. The afterparty buzzed somewhere in the distance, but Elizabeth wasn’t there. She was here—on the rooftop. With you.

The two of you had slipped away, quietly, unnoticed. Not because you were hiding, but because... moments like this felt too precious to share.

She stood next to you, heels kicked off, her bare feet resting against the cool rooftop stone. Her dress shimmered even in the moonlight. But what shimmered more was the way she looked at you.

“You know,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned by the city below, “I used to think love was this... loud, overwhelming thing. Like movie love. Fireworks. Drama. But then you came along.”

You tilted your head. “And now?”

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Now it’s quiet. Constant. Strong. Like... gravity.”

You swallowed. The words were heavier than you expected—and lighter too. She took your hand in hers, thumb brushing over your skin like a promise.

“I don’t need red carpets or scripts or awards,” she murmured. “Just this. Just you.”

And for a moment, under the stars and above the noise of the world, it felt like all the lights in the city had dimmed to let her shine.