Summer's POV
The island felt quieter when they left, but her heart hadn't caught up.
The salt in the air still clung to her hair, the scent of coconut smoke to her clothes.
As the boat drifted farther from shore, Summer turned to see the beach shrinking into gold. For a moment she imagined their footprints still there—two sets, side by side—slowly erased by the tide.
Ethan sat beside her, relaxed in that infuriating, effortless way. "You look like you're thinking about something tragic."
She smiled faintly. "Just wondering if my tan's permanent."
He chuckled. "It better be. Proof we survived."
The silence that followed was easy—like breathing after weeks of pretending to be someone the world wanted to see.
"You realize," she said softly, "that the cameras stopped rolling hours ago."
"I noticed," he said. "And yet you're still here."
"Maybe I got used to you ruining my peace."
He laughed, leaning closer. "I'll ruin it permanently, if you let me."
Summer turned to face him. The boat rocked slightly. The sky was low and orange, the world around them just sea and wind. "You're impossible."
"Yeah," he said. "But I'm yours."
Her breath caught. The confession was quiet, not cinematic.
And maybe that's why it felt real.
---
Ethan's POV
Back on land, reality hit fast.
The moment their feet touched the dock, cameras exploded like lightning. Reporters shouted, fans screamed, microphones thrust into their faces.
"Ethan! Summer! Are you two official now?"
"Was the kiss part of the script?"
"Are you moving in together?"
He felt Summer tense beside him. Without thinking, he reached for her hand.
Her fingers slipped naturally into his—warm, certain.
The crowd went wild. Flashes, cheers, a thousand voices turning their story into noise again.
She leaned in, whispering, "Congratulations. You just gave them headlines for a week."
He smiled sideways. "Let them write whatever they want. I know my ending."
"Cocky."
"Confident."
They moved together through the chaos, hand in hand, until their car door shut out the shouting world.
For a long moment neither spoke. Then Summer laughed, half hysterical, half relieved. "We're insane."
"Completely," he agreed. "But at least we're insane together."
---
Summer's POV
The city was too bright after the island—the air sharper, the lights crueler.
Every billboard and screen flashed with versions of them: the kiss, the confessions, the finale clips on loop.
By the time they reached her apartment, she was exhausted. She dropped her bag by the couch and collapsed. "If one more person asks me if we're engaged, I'm moving back to the island."
Ethan dropped beside her. "I'll bring the coconuts."
"Romantic," she muttered, but smiled.
He leaned back, arm brushing hers. "Do you regret it?"
"Which part?"
"Us. Being real."
She turned to him, eyes softer now. "Ask me again in a week—after the internet calms down."
He laughed quietly. "That's a no."
"Maybe."
She hesitated, then added, "But this—right now—feels better than any script we ever had."
"Because it's ours," he said.
She reached for his hand, twining their fingers lazily. "You think people will believe it's real?"
"They don't have to," he said. "Only you do."
---
Ethan's POV
Later that night, they found a small café hidden on a quiet street. No paparazzi, no production crew—just dim lights and the smell of coffee and rain.
Summer sipped her drink and sighed. "I forgot how silence sounds."
Ethan smiled. "Like the ocean without the cameras."
She grinned. "You're getting poetic again."
"I'm happy. That's new."
She tilted her head. "So what happens now?"
He looked at her across the small table. "We start over. Without scripts. Without edits."
She nodded slowly. "That sounds terrifying."
"Good," he said. "That's how you know it's real."
He reached out, brushed her hand with his thumb. "This is the part the cameras never got."
She smiled, small and steady. "You mean us not pretending?"
"I mean this."
He leaned forward, closing the last inch of distance. This kiss was softer than the one on the island, quieter—but deeper, truer.
No applause, no lights, no audience.
Just breath and heartbeat and something that finally, finally belonged to them.
When they pulled apart, she whispered against his lips, "Still think you're impossible."
He smiled. "And you're still here."
She laughed, resting her forehead against his. "Looks like I'm staying."
"Good," he murmured. "Because I don't plan on letting go."
Outside, the city hummed and lights flickered, but inside, the world had finally gone still.