She finally said yes. Not because she was ready. But because she realized that ready was a myth. Love doesn’t wait for perfect. It just waits for now.
Marcus leaned against the doorframe, his heart a clenched fist. “Yes to what, Charlie?”
It was a Tuesday, unremarkable except for the rain that fell in diagonal sheets, flooding the gutters of Maple Street. Charlie found herself standing outside his apartment building, soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her cheeks. She didn’t have a speech. She didn’t have a plan. All she had was a terrible, magnificent realization that had been growing in the quiet space where his voice used to be.