Antonio's POV
I stood behind the old elm tree, a few feet from the fountain, heart thudding like a drum caught in storm. My feet were planted, but every part of me itched to move, to rush to her and wrap her in the hug I'd been craving since the moment we parted ways hours ago.
But I didn't.
I couldn't.
There she was—Atasha, my Atasha—spinning slowly, eyes darting with something between confusion and worry. She was looking for me. She wanted me there. And yet, I stood frozen, caught in the middle of the surprise I had been planning for days.
Luna's visit was only the beginning. I had more.
But seeing her now, so fragile in the way only she could be—strong on the outside but soft when no one was watching—it made my throat tighten. Her voice carried to me on the breeze. My name. A whisper.
God, it broke me.
She sat on the bench, defeated, and I knew I couldn't hide much longer. This wasn't fair—not to her, not to us. So, I stepped out, each footstep feeling like it shook the ground between us.
"Atasha," I said softly.
Her head whipped around, eyes wide, and for a second the sun seemed to find her, lighting every corner of her face with a golden glow.
"You were here?" she asked, part surprised, part... betrayed.
I nodded. "I didn't mean to scare you. I—I wanted to surprise you, but seeing you search like that... I couldn't take it."
Her lips parted slightly, and I saw the pain still flickering in her eyes.
I moved closer, step by step, until I was in front of her. "I was waiting for Luna to leave. I wanted the moment after that to be ours. Yours and mine."
She didn't speak, but she didn't look away either. That was enough for now.
So I did what I wanted to do since I saw her turn in search of me—
I sat beside her and held her hand in both of mine, firm and trembling all at once.
"Stay here with me," I whispered. "Let me make every second count from now on."
Atasha's POV
When his fingers wrapped around mine, the world finally stopped spinning.
All the anxiety, the searching, the ache in my chest that had been threatening to swallow me—it stilled. His hands were warm, a little shaky maybe, but they held mine like they'd been waiting years just to do that one simple thing. And maybe, in some strange way, they had.
I didn't speak at first. I couldn't. My heart was both furious and forgiving, colliding in a dance I didn't know how to follow.
But I didn't pull away either.
"I thought you left," I finally whispered, voice thinner than I wanted it to be.
He shook his head gently. "I never did. Not really."
His words were soft, almost ashamed. He was trying—not just with flowers or grand gestures—but with truth. With presence.
I let out a small laugh, dry and aching. "You really had me out here like some girl in a movie, twirling in circles, looking for her stupid prince."
"You're not just some girl," he said, eyes locking with mine. "You're the whole damn plot."
And I—God—I hated how much I loved that line.
"Okay," I said, inching just a little closer. "So what now, charming?"
He smiled, boyish and hopeful. "Now? We stay. Just like this. And I tell you about all the ways I missed you. Every little detail."
"And after that?" I challenged.
His smile deepened. "After that… we stop counting seconds and start making moments."
I leaned my head on his shoulder, letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding since the moment I started looking for him. This—this right here—felt like the beginning we didn't know we were walking toward all along.