Almost Love, Then Everything - Chapter 40: Chapter 40
You are reading Almost Love, Then Everything, Chapter 40: Chapter 40. Read more chapters of Almost Love, Then Everything.
("When love is real, even the silence feels safe.")
The morning light was soft—
not golden, not blinding,
just soft,
like the world knew not to intrude too loudly.
Leah woke first.
For a moment, she didn’t move. She didn’t even open her eyes. She just felt—the weight of the blanket, the faint hum of the city beyond the window, and the steady warmth beside her.
Jade.
Her hand was still in Leah’s.
Even in sleep.
Leah turned her head slightly, just enough to see her face.
She looked peaceful. Eyes closed, lips parted slightly, hair tousled in a way that made Leah’s chest ache—not with pain, but with something bigger. Something like hope.
The words from last night came rushing back.
“I think I love you.”
Had she really said it?
And Jade had said it back.
Leah almost didn’t believe it had happened—except for the fact that it still felt true. Even now. Even in the quiet honesty of morning.
She slipped out of bed gently, careful not to wake Jade, and padded into the kitchen. The air was cool on her skin, grounding. She poured herself a glass of water and stood by the window, staring out over the slowly waking city.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel the need to run.
Or overthink.
Or hide.
She just was.
And that felt like progress.
Jade stirred around 8:30.
When Leah heard the soft shuffle of footsteps, she turned—and smiled.
“Good morning,” Leah said quietly.
Jade’s smile was lazy and sleep-warmed. “You’re still here.”
“I didn’t want to leave.”
Jade crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing her forehead to Leah’s shoulder.
“You didn’t have to say it last night,” she murmured. “But I’m glad you did.”
Leah nodded slowly. “I didn’t plan to.”
“That’s how I know it was real.”
They made breakfast together.
Bad coffee. Scrambled eggs. Burnt toast that made them both laugh until their stomachs hurt.
There was no tension. No awkward aftermath. No “what now?”
Just two people in the gentle process of becoming something more—together.
After breakfast, they ended up back on the couch, legs tangled, a book open between them that neither was really reading. Jade’s hand found Leah’s thigh. Leah leaned her head on Jade’s shoulder.
And there they stayed.
Not because they were avoiding the world—
But because for the first time in both of their lives,
they had found someone
who felt like home.
The day after love is spoken
is never as dramatic as the movies.
But it is the softest miracle—
to wake up
and still feel safe.
The morning light was soft—
not golden, not blinding,
just soft,
like the world knew not to intrude too loudly.
Leah woke first.
For a moment, she didn’t move. She didn’t even open her eyes. She just felt—the weight of the blanket, the faint hum of the city beyond the window, and the steady warmth beside her.
Jade.
Her hand was still in Leah’s.
Even in sleep.
Leah turned her head slightly, just enough to see her face.
She looked peaceful. Eyes closed, lips parted slightly, hair tousled in a way that made Leah’s chest ache—not with pain, but with something bigger. Something like hope.
The words from last night came rushing back.
“I think I love you.”
Had she really said it?
And Jade had said it back.
Leah almost didn’t believe it had happened—except for the fact that it still felt true. Even now. Even in the quiet honesty of morning.
She slipped out of bed gently, careful not to wake Jade, and padded into the kitchen. The air was cool on her skin, grounding. She poured herself a glass of water and stood by the window, staring out over the slowly waking city.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel the need to run.
Or overthink.
Or hide.
She just was.
And that felt like progress.
Jade stirred around 8:30.
When Leah heard the soft shuffle of footsteps, she turned—and smiled.
“Good morning,” Leah said quietly.
Jade’s smile was lazy and sleep-warmed. “You’re still here.”
“I didn’t want to leave.”
Jade crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing her forehead to Leah’s shoulder.
“You didn’t have to say it last night,” she murmured. “But I’m glad you did.”
Leah nodded slowly. “I didn’t plan to.”
“That’s how I know it was real.”
They made breakfast together.
Bad coffee. Scrambled eggs. Burnt toast that made them both laugh until their stomachs hurt.
There was no tension. No awkward aftermath. No “what now?”
Just two people in the gentle process of becoming something more—together.
After breakfast, they ended up back on the couch, legs tangled, a book open between them that neither was really reading. Jade’s hand found Leah’s thigh. Leah leaned her head on Jade’s shoulder.
And there they stayed.
Not because they were avoiding the world—
But because for the first time in both of their lives,
they had found someone
who felt like home.
The day after love is spoken
is never as dramatic as the movies.
But it is the softest miracle—
to wake up
and still feel safe.
End of Almost Love, Then Everything Chapter 40. Continue reading Chapter 41 or return to Almost Love, Then Everything book page.