Chapter 102: Their Moment
Roman adjusted the throw blanket over Julie’s legs, but her hand moved to stop him.
"I’m okay," she murmured softly.
He looked down at her, tucked in the sheets, her eyes clearer now though still rimmed with the trace of earlier tears.
The ache hadn’t vanished, but something in her gaze was gentler—calmer.
"Do you want to go outside for a little while?" he asked. "Fresh air might help."
Julie hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah... I think I’d like that."
---
The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long orange shadows over the pavement. Their neighborhood was quiet, the kind of place where dogs barked two streets away and the scent of someone’s dinner drifted through cracked windows. Roman and Julie walked side by side, slow, quiet, neither in a rush to speak.
She wore one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves falling past her fingertips, and Roman had slipped his hand into the pocket of his slacks, every so often brushing against hers by accident.
Julie spoke first.
"I used to think... maybe there was something wrong with me."
He glanced sideways.
"Why?"
She shrugged, eyes cast ahead, watching the pattern of their shadows stretch out together on the sidewalk. "Because everyone treated me like I was too much. Too sensitive. Too strange. Too plain. I thought, maybe if I acted differently... smiled more, talked less, maybe then I’d be enough.
Roman’s steps slowed, then stopped altogether. The gravel beneath his shoe crunched softly. Julie noticed the halt, but she didn’t look up right away—she kept her gaze on their shadows, long and ghostlike on the ground.
"Julie," he said quietly.
She finally turned to him.
His eyes searched hers—not in that careful, unreadable way he often looked at the world, but openly, as if his heart had dropped its armor for her alone. The air between them felt stiller than before, like the world itself was holding its breath.
"You were always enough," he said. "More than enough. They just didn’t know how to see it."
A soft breath escaped her lips. She tried to smile but it trembled.
"They made me question everything," she whispered. "My worth... my voice... even my body. Like no matter what I did, I’d still be invisible or wrong."
Roman stepped closer—not so much to close the distance but to steady it. His presence didn’t crowd her. He just... waited. Waited for her to let the silence settle.
Her fingers, hidden under the long hoodie sleeves, curled slightly. "But with you... it’s different. I don’t know when it happened or how, but when you’re around, I stop shrinking."
Roman didn’t speak, but his throat moved like he’d swallowed something heavy. Then, with a quiet certainty, he held out his hand.
She looked at it for a moment—just looked. Then she placed hers in his, their palms meeting with warmth and the kind of quiet relief that didn’t need words.
They continued walking.
Their steps were unhurried, deliberate. Birds rustled in the hedges, and far off, someone’s wind chime caught a passing breeze. Roman’s thumb gently moved across the back of her hand.
"I wanted to tell you something," she said after a while.
He didn’t interrupt.
She bit her lip, searching for the right way to begin. Her heart was stammering so loud she wondered if he could hear it through her chest. "That night when I ran into you... everything was broken. Me. My faith. My sense of direction. I didn’t know how to keep breathing. And then you came."
She stopped walking. Roman turned toward her again.
"I didn’t fall in love with you because you saved me," she said softly. "I fell in love with you because even after saving me, you never made me feel like I owed you."
A pause. A beat. Her voice dipped lower.
"I love you, Roman."
There. Spoken like a secret the stars already knew.
Roman didn’t blink. His grip on her hand tightened just slightly—not possessive, just steady.
"I know," he said after a moment. Then, quietly, as if the words had waited too long to be said, "And I love you back. In a way I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything."
Julie’s eyes shimmered. She didn’t cry, not this time. There were no tears in this moment. Just the quiet bloom of something gentle, something true.
He leaned in—not rushed—and kissed her forehead, lingering there as though imprinting the truth onto her skin.
"You don’t have to change to be enough," he whispered against her temple. "Not for me. Not ever."
They kept walking after that, fingers still entwined. Around the next corner was a small park, mostly empty. Roman guided her toward a wooden bench under a tree where evening light dappled the ground.
They sat.
Julie leaned into his side, her head finding that perfect place against his shoulder. His arm curled around her naturally, protectively. For a long time, they didn’t speak. They just breathed, side by side, under the sky that had turned a deep indigo.
When the first stars began to appear, Julie murmured, "Do you believe people can be reborn... without dying?"
Roman thought about that for a moment. Then, "Maybe not reborn. But... rediscovered. Found again."
She nodded slowly. "Then I think I’ve just found myself."
"And I think," he said, brushing a kiss into her hair, "that I’ve found home."
Their quiet world wrapped around them like a promise. Nothing urgent, nothing loud. Just two people beneath the early night, holding onto something neither of them expected—but both had longed for.
And maybe that was enough. Maybe that was everything.
Julie let her fingers trail gently over the seam of Roman’s sleeve, her head still tucked beneath his chin. She could hear his heartbeat when she leaned in just right—a slow, steady rhythm like the world was finally moving at her pace.
"I used to be scared of nights like this," she said quietly. "The silence. It made everything I was trying to forget... louder."
Roman responded only by brushing his thumb along her forearm, slow, steady. Listening.
"But right now," she continued, "I don’t feel afraid. It’s strange."
He tilted his head to look at her. "It’s not strange."
She smiled faintly. "No?"
"It just means you’re safe now."
The words settled over her chest like a warm weight, comforting and grounding.
After a while, Roman stood, then extended a hand toward her.
"Come on. Let’s walk back slowly."
Julie nodded, slipping her hand into his again without hesitation.
The walk home was a quiet drift through their sleepy neighborhood. Porch lights glowed dimly behind curtains, and the gentle hum of cicadas filled the space between their footsteps.
A dog barked lazily in the distance, and a warm breeze carried the scent of hibiscus and something faintly smoky—someone’s grill, maybe.
Julie didn’t speak for a long stretch of sidewalk. Her steps stayed in rhythm with his, and every time their shoulders brushed, she felt herself breathe a little deeper.
Eventually, she broke the silence. "What were you like before all of this?"
Roman glanced at her. "All of what?"
"This life. The money, the power, the control. Before you had to wear armor all the time."
He let out a low breath, almost a sigh. "I think I was... quieter."
She gave him a gentle smile. "You’re already quiet."
"I mean inside." He paused. "I didn’t always have walls. Once, I let people in easily. Trusted first. Asked questions later."
"And now?"
"Now I ask a lot of questions."
Julie nodded. "Me too."
They turned a corner and passed a wooden fence where vines had overgrown and spilled onto the sidewalk.
Roman stopped for a moment, pulling her gently toward the side. They stood under a small tree whose branches framed the sky, now sprinkled with stars.
"I want you to know something," he said, his voice low.
Julie looked up at him.
"I don’t expect you to be strong all the time. You don’t have to pretend around me. If there are days you feel broken or tired or like the world is too heavy... you can let me carry part of it."
Her lips parted, but no words came. So instead, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Her cheek rested against his chest, right over his heartbeat.
"You already do," she whispered.
They stood there a while—just standing. The street quiet, the sky a soft, dark canvas above them. Then Julie pulled back slightly, her hand still resting on his chest.
"Do you want to know when I started falling for you?"
Roman gave a faint smile. "I’ve been dying to know."
"It wasn’t the night you found me on the road. That night I was too lost to see straight." She smiled, her eyes warm with memory. "It was the day you didn’t ask me why I was crying... and still sat beside me until I stopped."
Roman looked at her like she had just told him the universe was expanding in her eyes.
"And you?" she asked.
"When did I fall for you?"
She nodded.
Roman chuckled under his breath, a soft sound. "I think it happened so gradually, it caught me off guard. One moment I was trying to keep my distance... the next, I was rearranging my entire schedule just to have lunch with you."
Julie laughed gently. "So all those ’accidental run-ins’..."
"Were very much on purpose."
They both smiled at that—one of those quiet, slow smiles that stayed even after the lips stopped moving.
When they reached the house, Roman unlocked the door and let her step in first. The air inside was cooler now, holding the leftover scent of the cinnamon tea they’d shared earlier.
Julie kicked off her slippers and walked toward the living room, then paused halfway and turned to look at him.
"Roman?"
"Hm?"
"Stay with me tonight?"
He didn’t speak—just nodded.
---
Later, after she’d changed into one of her soft cotton nightgowns and washed her face, Julie returned to the bedroom. Roman was already there, seated on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.
The lamp cast a soft gold glow across the room, highlighting the edge of his profile, the slope of his shoulders. He looked up when she stepped in—and something in his eyes softened even more.
Julie didn’t say anything. She just crossed the room and sat beside him.
The silence between them wasn’t heavy. It was full of things that didn’t need to be said.
Roman finished unbuttoning his shirt, folding it carefully and setting it on the chair nearby. He slipped into a loose dark tee and gray cotton lounge pants, then turned to look at her again.
Julie had already pulled back the sheets. Her eyes met his over the pillow.
"Come here," she said softly.
He climbed in beside her, shifting so they both faced each other under the blankets. Their legs brushed, her hand found its way to his chest again, and his fingers gently curled around hers.
The hum of the night pressed against the windows. Outside, the moon had risen higher, casting faint silver light across the walls.
Julie shifted closer, just enough that their noses nearly touched.
"Does this feel too fast?" she whispered.
"No," he murmured. "It feels like we waited long enough."
A pause. Then he leaned in and kissed her—not urgently, not to steal her breath, but like he had all the time in the world to learn the shape of her lips.
It was soft. Slow. Her hand lifted to his cheek as she kissed him back, brushing her thumb beneath his eye.
When they parted, foreheads still resting together, Roman let out a breath like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"For what?" she asked.
"For not giving up on love... even after everything."
Julie smiled, her eyes closing. "It’s because you made it feel safe again."
He drew her closer, her body curling into his. Their limbs tangled naturally, the way two people who belonged together always managed to find the perfect fit.
And in that quiet room, beneath the hush of stars and the rhythm of shared breaths, Roman and Julie drifted into sleep—not as two people recovering from past pain, but as two hearts that had finally found home in each other
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