Three Words

They stepped out into the crisp, amber light of the late afternoon.

The private carriage waited by the iron gates, but as Eleanor reached for the brass handle, Ernest paused.

"Would you be amenable to a walk?" he asked.

She turned back, her gray eyes luminous in the declining sun. "All the way to the avenue?"

"Just along the river," Ernest said softly.

Eleanor smiled, letting her hand drop from the carriage door. "I would like that very much."

Ernest offered his arm, but Eleanor bypassed the formal gesture entirely. Instead, she slipped her bare fingers through his, lacing their hands together in the open daylight.

Ernest looked down at their joined hands, feeling the steady warmth of her palm against his own. A month ago, such public intimacy would have sent his mind spiraling into social calculations. Today, it felt grounding and absolute.