ROOTED
215 Words
Chapter Nine
Rooted
The days blurred into something tender.
Julian stayed. Not because he had to, but because something in him was quietly choosing her, over and over. Every morning he opened the shop for her before she’d even brushed her hair. Every evening, he closed the blinds while she counted petals lost to the floor.
He had become part of the rhythm.
They no longer spoke of timelines or past cities. They spoke in small things—how to keep dahlias from drooping, which windows caught the best light, what song made Leah hum without thinking.
And at night, she’d curl against him with bare skin and soft silence, the kind only love could hold.
One evening, rain tapping against the roof, Leah looked at him across their small dinner table and asked, “What happens when you get the itch to leave again?”
Julian held her gaze, his hand steady on hers. “I don’t feel like running anymore.”
“Why not?”
He leaned in. “Because for the first time… it smells like home.”
Leah didn’t reply right away. She just exhaled, slow and full, like a woman finally learning to breathe.
And she whispered, “Then stay. For as long as you want.”
And he did.
- Writer
