The sun spilled into their apartment like a warm sigh. Talia was already up, her feet bare on the hardwood floor, a steaming mug of tea balanced in one hand as she squinted at her laptop.
Ezra stirred beneath the sheets, groaning quietly at the sound of the kettle clicking off. He blinked against the soft gold glow of the morning.
From the bedroom, he watched her—his favorite view. Hair messy. Oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder. She didn't know she was beautiful like this, and that made it even worse for his heart.
"Why are you awake?" he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
Talia grinned without turning around. "Deadline. I told you I needed to finish edits."
He stretched, the sheet pooling around his waist. "It's Saturday."
"I know. But words don't care about weekends."
Ezra dragged himself out of bed and walked toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.
"You smell like chamomile and insomnia," he teased.
"Very funny, Dr. Ezra."
"Is it though?" he kissed her shoulder gently. "Come back to bed."
She tilted her head toward him. "You trying to seduce me with that messy bedhead and sleepy eyes?"
"I'm trying to seduce you with pancakes and bad jokes," he countered. "And the promise that we can nap again in two hours."
Talia laughed softly, leaning into him. "You're dangerously persuasive."
Later, after pancakes that were slightly burned but filled with too much love to matter, they sprawled on the couch, feet tangled under a shared blanket. Talia rested her head on Ezra's chest, listening to the soft rhythm of his heartbeat.
He was scrolling through his phone absentmindedly when he paused.
She glanced up. "What is it?"
Ezra turned the screen toward her. "Remember that fellowship in Marseille you mentioned two months ago?"
Talia's eyes widened. "The one that lets med students and writers collaborate on patient-narrative research?"
He nodded. "It's open again. For couples."
Talia sat up slowly, brows raised. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"That we should apply together?" he said, already half-smiling. "Yeah."
She stared at him. "That's… big."
"I know." He reached for her hand. "But it's not about chasing something new. It's about building something together. You said you didn't want to just fit into someone else's story. I want us to write our own."
Talia swallowed hard. "You're serious?"
"I've never been more sure of anything." His voice was steady. "Except maybe that you put the milk in before the cereal, which is deeply concerning."
She burst out laughing, even as her eyes glossed with tears.
"Okay," she whispered. "Let's do it."
They spent the afternoon drafting their joint application — Ezra handling the academic pitch, Talia weaving the story of how love and medicine could coexist through narrative.
It felt natural. Easy. Right.
When the email was ready to be sent, Ezra hovered over the mouse.
"Want to do the honors?"
Talia placed her hand over his. Together, they clicked send.
And just like that, a new chapter began.
That evening, they sat by the window, watching the world settle beneath dusk.
"I never thought I'd be here," Talia said quietly. "Not just here in this city, but… here. With you. Choosing."
Ezra didn't say anything right away. He just wrapped his fingers through hers, thumb tracing gentle circles.
"You saved me from a life I thought I wanted," he finally said. "You reminded me that success isn't measured in titles or research grants. It's measured in morning light and the people who choose to stay."
Talia blinked back sudden tears. "Ezra…"
He turned to her, serious now. "I'm not proposing."
"Okay…"
"Not yet," he smirked. "But I am saying this: I want every chapter. Even the hard ones. Even the boring ones. As long as they're with you."
Talia didn't respond with words.
She kissed him instead — slow, certain, like a promise stitched in silence.