We Met on Friday Night. By Sunday, I Knew – Part 3

It was an impulse.

Not a reckless spontaneity, but one born from trust. The kind that grows when you know there’s someone good beside you. John looked at me in the middle of the week — just a regular Wednesday, coffee from a thermos, a walk in the park with Baxter — and asked:

- How about going somewhere? No plans. Even just for two days.

He surprised me. Not because I didn’t have time, but because I had the courage to say “yes.”

On Friday, we packed two bags, a blanket, our favorite teas, and set off. Destination: a small lake where he used to go with his kids. It wasn’t about luxury — more about silence. A place where you can wear a warm sweater, sit on the porch, and not have to do anything.

The drive was pleasant. Music in the background, conversations about nothing and everything. We laughed at license plates, sometimes sat in silence — but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

On the first evening, sitting on the pier with tea in thermos mugs, he looked at me and said:

- I don’t remember the last time I felt this calm.

- I don’t remember the last time I let myself not analyze anything. - I admitted honestly.

And that was the truth. It wasn’t about escape. It was about being.

Baxter slept curled up beside us, and the lake reflected the lights of a distant cabin.

The next day, we did something crazy — for us. We rented a kayak.

Neither of us was a balance master, so there was more laughter than paddling. But because of that… some old tensions melted away. John’s sleeves were wet and he laughed like a boy. My hair was messy and my heart lighter than it had been in years.

Afterward, we had a simple dinner on the porch — pasta with pesto,

- The only thing I always know how to make, - John claimed.

In the evening, we sat side by side again. The same blanket, the same mugs, but something had changed. Maybe I had changed? I looked at him and thought:

Maybe I don’t have to be afraid anymore that something will end. Maybe I can just be — here, now.

- Thank you for bringing me here. - I whispered.

- It’s not the place. It’s you who makes everything calm. - he replied softly.

I didn’t need more words. I didn’t need to know what a month from now would bring.

That weekend taught me that love doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it just sits beside you. Silently. And doesn’t leave.