107. Warm Night (3)

They stood there, the distance between them shrinking ever so slightly, the quiet of the night wrapping around their shared uncertainty like a fragile cocoon.

Ashley’s mind raced with doubts, memories, and fears. But beneath it all, something new was stirring—something like trust.

She lifted her hand tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I want to try, Josh. I really do. But I need time.”

Josh smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes and warmed her soul. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled back, a flicker of relief breaking through the tension.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

They stood on the balcony a while longer, wrapped in silence that felt less like distance and more like an unspoken agreement: to be patient, to be kind, and to be real with each other—no matter how messy or slow the path might be.

As the stars twinkled overhead, Ashley realized that for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t alone in the darkness.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the beginning of something true.

Josh didn’t say anything right away.

His eyes were fixed on Ashley, as if trying to unravel the reason behind her quiet refusal. For a while, only the gentle night breeze moved between them, carrying the soft rustling of lavender leaves brushing against each other.

Ashley lowered her gaze, staring at her clasped hands resting in her lap. She could feel Josh’s chest rising and falling slowly, his breath still uneven. There was something on his face—not anger, not disappointment, but something more like... confusion.

Josh finally took a long breath. His voice came out low, careful.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Ash,” he said softly. “I just... maybe I got too excited. We’re here, just the two of us. It feels like a chance we never really had before.”

Ashley didn’t answer.

Josh rubbed the back of his neck gently, then sank back into his chair, leaning his back against it and staring up at the dark sky above them. “Maybe I was rushing things tonight.”

Ashley slowly turned her head toward him.

Josh gave a small, wry smile. “Back in school, I always wondered what it would be like if I could really get close to you. You were like... the sky. Beautiful, but out of reach.”

Ashley stayed quiet, listening.

“I don’t know when that feeling changed into something comfortable. Maybe after everything we went through, after we decided to get married. I thought that meant you felt the same way too.”

Now he looked at her directly. His eyes were soft but honest.

“But I get it if you’re still confused. I’m still asking myself a lot of questions too.”

Ashley remained silent, but her eyes softened a little.

Josh smiled faintly, then stood up slowly and stepped closer. This time, his hug wasn’t demanding. His arms wrapped around her shoulders gently, pulling Ashley into his embrace with a slow, careful motion—as if afraid to touch something fragile.

Ashley let herself be held.

She didn’t cry. Didn’t say a word. But her chest felt heavy with emotions she couldn’t put into words. She felt guilty... but also safe. Warm... yet still confused.

“Sorry,” Josh whispered in her ear. “I need to be more patient.”

Ashley didn’t respond. Maybe because she stayed silent, Josh took it as a form of acceptance.

His hands moved again, tracing her back, then sliding down slowly to her waist. He kissed the side of her head softly, then her cheek. Then her neck.

This time, the kisses weren’t as gentle as before. There was a more urgent pressure now. A desire that was more tangible.

Ashley tensed.

“Josh...” she murmured softly.

But he didn’t stop. His lips moved to her chin, then to her mouth.

Ashley stayed quiet, but her body instinctively pulled away.

When Josh deepened the kiss, she jerked backward sharply. This time, more firmly. She pushed him away.

“Sorry... I can’t,” she said, her voice soft but firm.

Josh immediately stopped. His breath was heavy. His face showed shock, then guilt.

Ashley stood up from the chair. Her hands clenched the hem of her shirt as if feeling exposed, even though the shirt covered almost all of her.

Josh said nothing for a moment. He just looked at her, then took a deep breath and stepped back.

“Sorry. I—I messed up again,” he finally said. “I thought maybe you were ready.”

Ashley shook her head. “It’s not you. I... I’m not sure yet.”

Josh nodded slowly, as if accepting the truth, though the disappointment was clear in his expression.

Without many words, he turned and walked slowly toward the master bedroom. Ashley stood there on the balcony, letting the cool night air brush against her chilled skin.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened. Ashley looked up. Josh came out wearing a different shirt and sweatpants, then walked out without a word. His footsteps echoed as he went down the stairs toward the lower floor.

Ashley stayed there for a while, unsure what to do.

She could feel her heart still pounding unevenly. Not because of Josh’s touch—but because of the guilt gnawing at her chest. She knew Josh didn’t mean to hurt her. She knew he was just trying to get closer, trying to be honest. But why did everything feel more complicated every time they tried to be closer?

Eventually, Ashley went back inside the bedroom. But instead of lying down on the bed, she walked toward the door and opened it slowly.

From the stairs leading down, she could see a faint light glowing from the living room. Her steps were light as she went down, trying not to make a sound.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ashley saw Josh.

He was sitting on the big sofa in the living room, his body slightly hunched forward. A clear glass of whiskey half full rested in his hand. An unopened bottle stood quietly on the coffee table. The TV was on, but muted. Only the screen’s light gently illuminated Josh’s face.

Ashley watched from a distance.

Josh looked... tired. Not physically, but as if his soul was weighed down by unanswered questions.

Ashley knew she could go down now. Sit next to him. Apologize. Try to explain what she really felt. But part of her was scared. Scared that her words wouldn’t be enough to fix things. Or worse, that they’d make everything worse.

She gripped the stair railing and took a deep breath.

But in the end, she chose a different path.

Slowly, Ashley turned around. She climbed the stairs one by one, carefully, as if afraid her footsteps might shatter the quiet night.

Once inside the bedroom, she closed the door quietly, then sat on the edge of the bed.

Ashley didn’t cry that night.

But her heart felt heavy, as if two opposing feelings lived inside it—one that wanted to fix everything... and one that just wanted to run away.

Downstairs, Josh still sat alone in front of the silent TV, sipping whiskey with a vacant stare.

There was no argument that night.

No shouting. No slammed doors.

But maybe because of that, their silence felt sharper than anything else.

The night lingered on with a quiet tension that neither of them could break.

Ashley’s mind wandered, replaying the moments over and over. She thought about the distance growing between them, not because of anything said, but because of the things left unspoken. How sometimes love wasn’t enough to erase fears or uncertainties.

Josh’s struggle was clear to her—the way he tried to reach out, but also how uncertain he was about crossing boundaries. And yet, Ashley knew that while Josh’s feelings were honest, she had to find her own peace first before she could fully open herself to him.

The soft clinking of ice in the whiskey glass downstairs echoed in her ears, a reminder of the loneliness that sometimes accompanied love.

Ashley looked at the ceiling, tracing the shadows made by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. She felt the weight of all the years they had shared—the laughter, the tears, the quiet moments—and wondered if it was enough to carry them through the uncertain nights ahead.

She wanted to say so many things—to tell Josh that she cared, that she loved him, but that sometimes love was complicated and slow, like the night wind brushing through the lavender leaves.

Yet for now, words failed her.

The silence stretched on, a fragile bridge between two hearts trying to find their way back to each other.