The city was quiet that night — the kind of quiet that only comes after midnight, when even the stars seem to be whispering. You and Jenna sat on the rooftop, a blanket wrapped around their shoulders, the glow of the skyline painting their faces in soft gold.

“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if we never met?” Jenna asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, turning to face her. “All the time. But then I realize… the universe isn’t that cruel.”

Jenna laughed softly, leaning her head against your shoulder. “You always say things like that. Like you trust the universe.”

“I don’t,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I trust you.”

The air between them stilled — heavy, electric, full of things neither had dared to say before. Jenna turned, eyes meeting your in the dim light. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then you reached up, fingers tracing the edge of Jenna’s jaw.

“You smell like lavender,” you murmured.

Jenna smiled. “You always notice the little things.”

“Only when they’re you.”

The world seemed to fade away as Jenna leaned in — a soft, slow kiss that tasted like rain and warmth and everything they hadn’t said yet. When they finally pulled apart, Jenna’s eyes were shining.

“Promise me,” she whispered. “No matter what happens… you’ll still find me on rooftops like this.”

You smiled. “Always.”

And somewhere below, the city kept breathing — unaware that, on one quiet rooftop, love had just promised itself forever.