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Alfie climbs back onto the bed next to her now, leaning lightly into her side without thinking. She automatically smooths his hair back.

No hesitation anymore.

Just… natural.

I close the suitcase slowly and watch them.

She knows Alfie likes his toast cut into squares not triangles. Knows I forget to eat when I’m stressed. Knows which cupboard the biscuits are in.

Somewhere along the way she stopped feeling like someone I was dating and started feeling like someone we were quietly making space for.

“Right,” I say. “I think I’m ready.”

Alfie jumps down.

“Can I help carry it?”

“It weighs more than you do.”

“I could try.”

Ava smiles. “You could supervise.”

He nods. “I will supervise.”

He walks out like a man with responsibility.

I wait until he disappears.

Then I look at Ava.

She looks back, that same soft look she had in her cottage doorway weeks ago.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods.

“I like this,” she admits.

“So do I.”

She reaches for my hand without really thinking.

“We are moving fast,” I say.

“Does it feel fast to you?”

I think about the photo. About Alfie leaning into her. About how normal this already feels.

“No,” I say. “Feels right.”

That smile again.

“I agree,” she says.

From the hallway Alfie shouts, “Dad! I am supervising!”

I squeeze her hand once before we go.