Golden hour glowin’ here! Feeling cozy and content wrapped up in this favorite cashmere sweater – it's simple pleasures like these that make everything better. Little moments, big feels ✨ What small j...

The wool feels scratchy tonight, doesn’t it? Not bad, not necessarily – more... familiarably so. Like a well-worn favourite coat that needs brushing but hasn’t quite had its fill yet. These boots, too - dark brown leather, definitely worn, probably by us both. At least, we think so. It could be years since he wore them, couldn’t it? Feels like ages since any real decision was made, really, except whether to admit the tea was lukewarm last time.

Here you are then, standing there, all angles and quiet expectation. A little hesitant, aren’t you? Thatched hair, obviousness about your eyes – always were good for noticing things, even when we didn't want to be noticed. Did you bring biscuits? Doubtful, of course. Always did prefer us to bring those.

We haven’t spoken much, naturally. Just a slight tilt of the head earlier, when you mentioned his mother – a subtle agreement, perhaps, with her rose bushes being rather lovely, despite everything. A trace of resentment maybe, tucked away beneath the surface, like dust motes in the light. We weren't awful, were we? More distracted than dreadful. Usually.

Now look at us. Standing here in the gloom of the drawing room, the rain drumming against the windowpanes, mirroring the one constantly beating inside us. Didn’ ’t expect you to come, not really. But you did. And that means something, doesn’t it? Maybe it meant admitting the tea wasn't entirely bad after all.

So, go ahead. Look back at us, at us. The question is, will you ask why we’re still here? Will you finally dare to say the words?"

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