Safe

Diane's pov

Saturday mornings had become my favorite.

No board meetings.

No client calls.

No deadlines.

Just peace.

And today that peace came in the form of a messy-haired man wearing sweatpants and a ridiculous dinosaur t-shirt.

"You cheated."

Zephyr gasped dramatically.

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

I pointed accusingly at the Monopoly board spread across his coffee table.

"You stole money from the bank."

His hand flew to his chest.

The man actually looked offended.

"Wow."

I squinted my eyes.

"You stole it."

"You have no proof."

I reached over and snatched the folded bills from beneath his thigh.

The evidence.

His jaw dropped.

Then I burst out laughing.

The next thing I knew, he tackled me onto the couch.

A squeal escaped me.

"Zephyr!"

"False accusations have consequences."

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt as he started tickling my sides.

"Stop!"

"Nope."

"Zephyr!"

"Confess."

"I'm innocent!"

"Liar."

By the time he finally released me, tears were running down my cheeks from laughter.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed this much.

Actually...

That wasn't true.

I could remember.

College.

Abe.

The memory arrived unexpectedly.

One night after finals, Abe had convinced me to race shopping carts through an empty parking lot.

It had ended with both of us crashing into a hedge and laughing until security threatened to call the police.

Back then everything had felt easy.

Simple.

Fun.

My heart ached.

"Diane?"

I blinked.

Zephyr was looking at me.

Concern immediately filled his face.

"Where'd you go?"

I smiled softly.

"Nowhere."

He didn't look convinced.

But he didn't push.

That was one thing about Zephyr.

He never pushed.

Never demanded.

Never cornered me.

If I wasn't ready to talk, he simply waited.

Patiently.

The way people should.

His fingers found mine.

A simple touch.

Yet somehow it made me feel grounded again.

Safe.

"Come here."

I slid closer immediately.

His arm wrapped around my shoulders as naturally as breathing.

No hesitation.

No conditions.

No expectations.

Just affection.

I rested my head against his chest.

His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear.

Strong.

Comforting.

For a moment neither of us spoke.

The television played quietly in the background while sunlight spilled through the windows.

It felt domestic.

The kind of peaceful intimacy I never realized I wanted.

Until now.

"You know," Zephyr said suddenly.

"Hm?"

"I like this."

I smiled.

"What?"

"Us doing absolutely nothing."

I laughed softly.

"We're literally sitting on a couch."

"Exactly."

His chin rested on top of my head.

"I don't need anything fancy."

Something warm spread through my chest.

Abe always wanted excitement.

Parties.

Attention.

Crowds.

Everything bigger.

Louder.

More.

Zephyr seemed perfectly happy spending the entire day beside me.

The realization made me strangely emotional.

His fingers absentmindedly traced circles along my arm.

The gesture was so gentle it almost hurt.

Because I wasn't used to gentleness.

Not from someone who loved me.

Not for long anyway.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

I blinked.

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying not to cry."

I immediately laughed.

"Am not."

"You are."

"I'm really not."

He tilted his head.

"Diane."

I groaned.

"Fine."

He smiled triumphantly.

"What is it?"

The truth sat on the tip of my tongue.

You make me feel loved.

You make me feel safe.

You make me feel like enough.

Instead I simply shrugged.

"I'm happy."

His smile softened instantly.

The kind of smile that always made my heart melt.

"Good."

Then he kissed my forehead.

Just because.

No hidden motive.

No attempt to lead things somewhere else.

Just affection.

Pure and uncomplicated.

My chest tightened.

Abe used to kiss me like that too.

At least in the beginning.

Before things changed.

Before the criticism started.

Before the jokes.

Before every compliment became followed by a condition.

The memory vanished when Zephyr nudged me playfully.

"What are we having for lunch?"

I grinned.

"You're assuming I'm cooking."

"You are."

His confidence made me laugh.

"Really?"

"You love cooking."

"Maybe I don't feel like it."

He looked horrified.

"Diane."

"What?"

"You can't just threaten me like that."

I burst out laughing.

An hour later I was standing in his kitchen while he sat on the counter pretending to supervise.

By supervise, I meant stealing ingredients.

"Zephyr."

"What?"

"Put the pepper down."

"I was helping."

"You were eating it."

"Same thing."

I shook my head.

The man was impossible.

Still smiling, I returned to stirring the sauce.

Cooking had always relaxed me.

Something about creating a meal from scratch felt therapeutic.

Behind me, Zephyr wrapped his arms around my waist.

My breath caught.

Not because of surprise.

Because of comfort.

His chin rested on my shoulder.

"What smells so good?"

"The food."

"I was talking about you."

I rolled my eyes.

The shameless flirt.

Yet despite myself, heat rushed into my cheeks.

He noticed immediately.

"You blushed."

"Shut up."

"You did."

"Zephyr."

He laughed against my neck.

The vibration sent warmth through me.

Not urgency.

Not obsession.

Warmth.

There was a difference.

A huge difference.

Abe's touch had often felt consuming.

Like a wildfire.

Intense.

Dangerous.

Impossible to control.

Zephyr felt like coming home after a long day.

Steady.

Reliable.

Comforting.

Maybe passion wasn't supposed to feel like destruction.

Maybe love wasn't supposed to feel like surviving a storm.

Maybe it was supposed to feel like this.

Like cooking lunch together on a Saturday afternoon.

Like laughter.

Like trust.

Like safety.

As if sensing my thoughts, Zephyr squeezed me gently.

"You know something?"

"What?"

His voice softened.

"I really like you."

I laughed.

"We've been dating for months."

"I know."

"Then why are you saying it like a confession?"

"Because I mean it."

I turned around.

His expression was completely serious.

No teasing.

No jokes.

Just sincerity.

The kind that was becoming increasingly rare.

My heart skipped.

"I really like you too."

A smile spread across his face.

Bright.

Happy.

Genuine.

And as he leaned down to kiss me softly, I couldn't help thinking that maybe this was what healthy love looked like.

Not grand promises.

Not dramatic declarations.

Not endless highs and lows.

Just two people choosing each other.

Every single day.

Even on ordinary Saturdays.

Especially on ordinary Saturdays.