Chapter 43 – “What Forever Feels Like”
The sunlight crept in before the alarm.
A thin slice across the edge of the duvet, pooling on hardwood. Outside, the city hadn't fully woken. Inside, the world had already started—quiet, warm, slow.
Will stirred first.
He reached instinctively, hand sliding across the sheets.
Found her.
Eliza lay on her stomach, arm draped across the empty side of the bed, one leg tangled in the covers. Her breathing was even, mouth slightly open, hair a glorious, tangled mess against the pillow.
She looked nothing like the woman in Forbes covers or shareholder meetings.
She looked like his.
He smiled into the silence.
Coffee brewed automatically in the kitchen.
Eliza padded in barefoot ten minutes later, wearing his button-down and a lazy scowl that faded as soon as she spotted the mugs.
She didn't say good morning.
She walked straight into his chest, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek to his collarbone.
"Still married?" she mumbled.
He kissed the top of her head.
"Still yours."
They sat on the balcony, wrapped in blankets, sipping coffee.
No press. No board. No headlines.
Just the birds. The soft clink of ceramic. The way their knees touched and stayed there.
Eliza turned to him, mug resting on her thigh.
"Is this what forever feels like?"
He glanced over.
"No," he said, teasing.
She raised a brow.
He leaned in. "This is what this morning feels like. Forever's gonna taste different every day."
She smiled.
Not the polite kind. The real one.
The one she gave only to him.
They made breakfast together.
Burned the toast.
Started a playlist and never finished it.
He stole kisses by the fridge.
She muttered about his terrible knife skills, then let him win anyway.
Later, after dishes and shower steam and another round of kisses that didn't start out meant to go further—but did anyway—Eliza stood by the window, towel wrapped around her, watching the skyline.
Will came up behind her.
Arms around her waist. Chin on her shoulder.
They looked out at the same view they always had.
But everything looked different now.
Not bigger.
Not brighter.
Just theirs.
Not a milestone.
Not an ending.
Just one quiet morning they'd carry forever.
Because love doesn't always arrive with thunder.
Sometimes it's a whisper.
And it sounds like home.