The rain drummed a steady, rhythmic beat against the window of their small apartment, but inside, the air was warm and smelled like cheap coffee and big dreams. Maya leaned her head on Elias’s shoulder, staring at a blank spot on the wall as if she could see their future projected onto it.
“Hey,” she murmured, tracing the line of his palm. “When we’re rich—like, actually rich—what’s the first thing you’re buying that isn't a bill?”
Elias laughed, a low sound that vibrated against her. “A doorbell. One that actually works and doesn't sound like a dying bird. But seriously? I want a kitchen with an island so big we could host a banquet on it. I want to watch you cook without us bumping elbows every time someone needs the salt.”
Maya smiled, closing her eyes. “I want a library. Floor-to-ceiling dark wood, with one of those rolling ladders. I’ll spend all morning there, and you’ll have to come find me because I’ve forgotten what century it is.”
“I’ll find you,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “But only to take you to the airport. Remember the pact? Three months of the year, we’re gone. No itineraries, just a map and a dart.”
“The Amalfi Coast in the spring,” she whispered. “Tokyo in the fall.”
“And a cabin in the Swiss Alps when we get tired of the heat,” Elias added. “We’ll have those massive windows so the mountains are the only art we need.”
Maya pulled back slightly, her eyes bright. “You know what the best part will be, though? It’s not the stuff. It’s the silence. No more waking up at 5:00 AM to catch the bus. No more stressing over the ‘low balance’ alert on my phone. Just... time. We’ll finally own our time.”
Elias took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. Their hands were a bit rough, seasoned by the hustle of their current lives, but they held on tight.
“We’ll be the same us,” he said softly. “Just with better shoes and a lot more sleep.”
“And we’ll still share the last bite of dessert?”
“Always,” Elias grinned. “Even if it’s served on a gold plate.”
The rain drummed a steady, rhythmic beat against the window of their small apartment, but inside, the air was warm and smelled like cheap coffee and big dreams. Maya leaned her head on Elias’s shoulder, staring at a blank spot on the wall as if she could see their future projected onto it.
“Hey,” she murmured, tracing the line of his palm. “When we’re rich—like, actually rich—what’s the first thing you’re buying that isn't a bill?”
Elias laughed, a low sound that vibrated against her. “A doorbell. One that actually works and doesn't sound like a dying bird. But seriously? I want a kitchen with an island so big we could host a banquet on it. I want to watch you cook without us bumping elbows every time someone needs the salt.”
Maya smiled, closing her eyes. “I want a library. Floor-to-ceiling dark wood, with one of those rolling ladders. I’ll spend all morning there, and you’ll have to come find me because I’ve forgotten what century it is.”
“I’ll find you,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “But only to take you to the airport. Remember the pact? Three months of the year, we’re gone. No itineraries, just a map and a dart.”
“The Amalfi Coast in the spring,” she whispered. “Tokyo in the fall.”
“And a cabin in the Swiss Alps when we get tired of the heat,” Elias added. “We’ll have those massive windows so the mountains are the only art we need.”
Maya pulled back slightly, her eyes bright. “You know what the best part will be, though? It’s not the stuff. It’s the silence. No more waking up at 5:00 AM to catch the bus. No more stressing over the ‘low balance’ alert on my phone. Just... time. We’ll finally own our time.”
Elias took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. Their hands were a bit rough, seasoned by the hustle of their current lives, but they held on tight.
“We’ll be the same us,” he said softly. “Just with better shoes and a lot more sleep.”
“And we’ll still share the last bite of dessert?”
“Always,” Elias grinned. “Even if it’s served on a gold plate.”
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