The gravel road ended where the trees began. Pines rose tall and thick, their branches whispering against the pale winter sky. The air carried the clean scent of frost and damp earth. A V8 engine roared, its growl tearing through the stillness as it climbed the snowy path. For a moment, the woods held their breath. Then, as the car settled into silence, the forest exhaled, returning to its quiet rhythm.
Ethan swung open the driver's door and stepped out, stretching his long frame. His gaze settled on the cabin tucked into the clearing. It wasn't much, but to him it was everything. Peace. No traffic, no smog—just the promise of quiet. He would trade all the noise of the world for this moment to last forever.
The passenger door clicked open. Ethan hurried around, concern etched into his face.
"Love, what are you doing? You could get hurt. What would I tell my in-laws if something happened to both of you?" His voice carried a note of worry.
"Ethan, I'm pregnant, not handicapped." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you worry too much. Wasn't this the whole reason we came here? To get away from my parents' nagging?"
"Yeah, yeah. Doesn't mean I can't worry about both of you." He grinned, offering his hand as she stepped down.
She shook her head with a smile. "If you're so worried, maybe you should start by selling this car. The heater barely works, it's uncomfortable, and it's not exactly practical for three people. You know, I saved that guy's number from last year. It should be in a drawer somewhere—why don't you give him a call?"
Ethan scoffed. "Come on, it's a classic. Who doesn't love a classic? Besides, if it wasn't for this car, you wouldn't have noticed me. Without it, we wouldn't even be here." He tilted his head, mock offense coloring his voice. "And why exactly did you save his number? Interested in him, were you? He didn't look that good to me."
She laughed softly. "Oh, come on. You sound jealous. Besides, he wasn't half as handsome as you."
The cabin welcomed them with the crackle of firelight. As they stepped inside, she turned and kissed him. Cold met warmth, blending perfectly in their embrace. When they finally pulled back, her brown eyes shone with affection, mirrored in the deep green of his.
"I'll get the rest from the car. You stay here and warm up," he said gently. At the door, he paused, leaned back in, and stole another kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too." She smiled, closing the door behind him. Then, just loud enough for him to hear: "And don't worry—he's got nothing on you. The other one, though…"
Laughter spilled from the cabin as the door shut. Ethan stood outside, smiling to himself, the sound lingering in the winter air.
After unpacking, Ethan slipped his gloves back on and began chopping more wood. Each strike of the axe echoed faintly through the trees, sharp against the hush of winter. Inside, Ellen moved about the kitchen, humming softly as she stirred a pot of soup. One hand rested on her stomach, her thumb tracing gentle circles over the curve of her baby bump. Ethan caught the glimpse through the frosted window, and the sight filled him with a quiet longing—for this moment, this peace, to stretch on forever.
When the woodpile was stacked neatly by the chimney, he came inside, brushing snow from his shoulders. The warmth of the fire wrapped around him as he stepped closer, watching Ellen taste the broth with a thoughtful expression. Her hum carried on, light and sweet, weaving itself into the crackle of the fire.
"You've done enough," he said, slipping behind her and kissing her temple. "Go sit. I'll finish up."
She gave him a mock glare but obeyed, settling at the table as he washed his hands and reached for the ladle. Carefully, he filled the bowls, setting them down with a flourish that made her laugh.
"See? Perfectly capable," he teased, sliding into the chair opposite her.
For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear—no noise, no interruptions, only the two of them, the firelight, and the promise of the life they were building together.