The sun crept gently through the old cabin windows, painting golden stripes across the wooden floor and warming the small room like a whisper. Birds chirped outside, the lake still smooth and silver in the soft morning hush.
Michelle stirred first.
She blinked, slowly adjusting to the light, still wrapped in Steve's hoodie, her hair tousled from sleep. Steve's arm was around her waist, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm behind her.
She turned slightly to look at him.
His face was relaxed, peaceful. He looked younger like this. Softer. Vulnerable in a way that made her chest ache a little.
Michelle smiled to herself and whispered, "You look way too good asleep."
Steve's lips twitched.
"You talk to yourself often?" he mumbled, eyes still closed.
Michelle gasped, grinning. "You were awake!"
"Sort of," he said, stretching. "But if I knew you'd say nice things, I'd have stayed fake-asleep longer."
She turned to face him fully now, lying nose to nose. "You really brought me to the middle of nowhere just to watch me sleep?"
"No," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "I brought you here to remember what it feels like to be still. To have nothing pulling us away from each other."
She closed her eyes at his touch. "Mission accomplished."
Later, wrapped in a blanket with steaming mugs of coffee in their hands, they sat on the tiny front porch, legs tangled, watching the sunlight dance on the lake.
"Do you think it'll be different when we're back at school?" Michelle asked quietly.
Steve hesitated.
"Maybe," he admitted. "There'll always be people who have something to say. But I don't care anymore. Not after this. I want to be the same with you in public as I am when we're alone."
Michelle looked at him, surprised. "Even if people stare? Or talk?"
He turned to her, serious. "Let them. Let them talk. I'd rather be real with you than silent in front of them."
She stared at him for a moment, her heart full, then leaned forward and kissed him—soft, slow, meaningful.
When they pulled back, she said, "Then I want to do this right. No more hiding. No more fear."
He touched her cheek. "You never have to hide who you are with me."
They spent the rest of the morning walking hand in hand through the trees, laughing at squirrels, stopping to kiss whenever they felt like it. Time stretched like honey—slow, golden, sweet.
And when they packed up to leave later that afternoon, Michelle sat beside him in the car with her head on his shoulder, her heart full.
She didn't know what challenges would come when they returned.
But for now, she had this: his hand in hers, the scent of pine still clinging to their clothes, and the memory of a quiet weekend where love felt easy.
Where it felt like home.