I wake up from being tickled. Or rather, I feel ticklish from the barely noticeable movement of gentle fingers across my face. Like the lightest touch of a petal, this gesture is almost weightless, yet so alive that it wakes me better than any ray of sunlight. At first, my beloved's fingers glide carefully over my cheek, as if studying it, like an artist touching a canvas for the first time before beginning a painting. Then they slowly move to my lips, sending a slight shiver through me and awakening warmth inside—a warm wave, as if someone lights a tiny fire in my chest.
I deftly catch one of them, feeling its warmth in my palm—so small, fragile, and yet so familiar, as if it has always belonged to me.
"Hey, give it back!" Katrin demands, laughing, her voice ringing like a morning bell, full of playfulness and tenderness. It tickles my ears, and everything inside me smiles involuntarily.
I lift my hand, pull her palm to me, and, pressing it to my lips, start kissing each finger individually, slowly, with love, as if worshipping them. Each kiss is like a quiet confession, as if in each one I am saying: "Thank you for being here. Thank you for being close."
"I won't give them back; they're all mine, just like you," I say, my voice carrying a soft pull as I look into her eyes, reflecting the morning sun and endless love. There is everything in them: tenderness, playfulness, a touch of sleepy affection, and boundless devotion that tightens my throat.
Rebel Girl leans closer and gently rubs her nose against mine, like a kitten seeking affection. In this movement, there is touching vulnerability, so honest, so homely.
"I'm all yours, my love," she whispers into my lips, and my heart tightens with happiness. It doesn't just beat—it sings, exploding with fireworks of warm feelings, as if confirming: yes, this is love, real, alive, here and now.
Taking advantage of her closeness, I kiss her immediately. Our kiss is less gentle than yesterday, but it has more passion, more desire, as if we both fall in love with each other again this morning. It's not just a kiss—it's a merging of two souls, two beginnings, burning with everything that words cannot express.
"Darling, what time is it?" I ask, barely pulling away from Katrin, scanning for the jeans where my phone lies. The car is filled with soft light, smelling of her—her skin, her hair, her perfume—and I have no desire to leave this cocoon of warmth and morning magic.
"I've hated this question since our early days," she admits, and in her voice flickers a light shadow of past sadness. This phrase, said with a slight smile, almost jokingly, actually carries a whole story. Echoes of pain, separation, farewells—all of it slips between the lines but doesn't destroy our moment; it makes it even more precious.
"Why?" I wonder, looking at her as if trying to read a hidden secret in her eyes that keeps me restless. The question hangs in the air, heavy and persistent, and I feel a light unease growing inside me, like a shiver running down my spine, mixed with a quiet hope that maybe now she reveals everything her silence hides.
"Because it means that you, or we, would soon have to go to the university , and I don't want to," she answers quietly, her voice trembling with uncertainty, as if every word is difficult for her to speak.
I see uncertainty and reluctance in her gaze, unwilling to part with this moment, with us here and now—with the tenderness surrounding us. Her words carry both gentleness and fear, as if she is afraid that if we let this minute go, it disappears forever.
"Forget about that phone," I say, giving up the search, feeling both relief and slight annoyance.
At that moment, all other little things cease to matter, dissolving into the importance of our presence for each other.
"Let's just lie together," I suggest, hoping our closeness helps us forget all the anxieties and fears that bind our hearts.
"You should always answer me like that," my beauty smiles, and in that smile is so much warmth that my heart stops for a moment. Her eyes shine with happiness and light playfulness, as if Rebel Girl finally feels safe and joyful being with me, without masks or expectations. At that moment, nothing is more important than just being together, breathing the same air, and sharing this serenity.
"I will, I promise. Especially since it's almost graduation. That means you'll forget the word ' university ' for at least the next fourteen years, until Mary goes," I say, trying to lighten her sadness, but also feeling a new chapter of our life approaching, full of changes and uncertainty.
"But I'll remember the word 'work,'" she says sadly, and I see a trace of sorrow and slight disappointment in her voice. Her eyes fill with quiet longing, and I want to hold her tightly, to protect her from everything that causes pain.
"All my free time will be with you. I won't overwork myself with it either; I'll give more time to family," I promise my beloved, feeling the responsibility weighing on me, but also pride that I can be close and support her. Yet she becomes even sadder, and it hurts me like a sharp jab to the heart.
"What's wrong? You don't trust me?" I ask, intending to find the reason for her worry, as her eyes say something entirely different—they hide the fear of losing me, confusion, and possibly inner conflict.
"It's not that. I'm sorry I said back then that we're not a family," her words carry so much pain and regret that I feel my heart tighten, as if someone grips it in iron clamps. This confession is both heavy and freeing.
"We've both said foolish things to each other. Let's forget all that and start over?" I suggest, trying to build a bridge of understanding and forgiveness between us. At that moment, I want to regain her trust and show that I'm ready to fight for us, to make things better.
"I don't want to forget everything. But I'll gladly be with you."
I feel that her words are filled with sincerity and hope. It's a moment of confession, when we both open our hearts to each other, promising that we won't let pain separate us again.
"You're mine, my love," I stroke her back, enjoying her presence beside me, feeling the warmth of her body and the tenderness of her touch. It's a quiet but very important ritual—a reminder that we are together, that she matters to me.
"I won't act like a jerk anymore. This behavior will never repeat, I swear to you," I say, knowing she may not believe immediately, but I've already decided for myself—this is my new start, my genuine hope for change.
"No words needed, I feel it anyway, and for me it matters more," Katrin responds, and I see faith and calm shining in her eyes. At that moment, her complete trust in me is more important than any promise.
I kiss her on the forehead with a deep understanding of how wonderful she is, how much this moment means to me, how strongly I want to protect her and our happiness.
"I really need to know, without any embellishments, how you are without me," there is honesty and a desire to be near me in her words, no matter what I am like.
"Darling," I call her, and she looks at me as if trying to catch every word, every emotion hidden in my tone. "You don't need to worry, this will no longer happen in my life. No more races, no more fights, and definitely no more suicidal actions. That's all in the past, and I will never do it again," I promise her, feeling how my words bring relief and hope for the better. This is my solemn moment when I decide to become better for us—to build our future together, holding hands and not afraid to move forward.
"I'm glad, because it's important to me," Katrin says, with sincere warmth in her voice, and tenderness and relief shine in her eyes, as if a heavy burden has finally lifted from her soul. Quiet joy is visible in her gaze, as if the world becomes a little brighter in this very moment.
"I don't want you to walk down that dark path again," she adds, and now there is worry and care in her words, as if she is protecting my soul from new pain, trying to shield me from what once hurt. "You pulled me out of it with your love, and then you stayed for me yourself," she says quietly, with a slight sadness, as if remembering everything we have gone through together. Her words carry both gratitude and regret, a warm but painful memory of the trials we have endured to be here and now.
"Let's not talk about it," I sigh, "for me, it's a closed chapter of my already old life."
It is a quiet promise to myself—not to let the shadows of the past overshadow the light of the future.
"And what will your new life be like?" my joy asks with a slight smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and warmth, hope and trust reading in them, as if she wants to believe that something beautiful and real lies ahead.
"In it, the center will be you and our daughter," I say sincerely, with confidence in every word. "Sometimes my mom will appear, your grandmother, and Vi with Vera. I will continue managing the club, as well as running the branch. Once every three weeks, or even less often, Vi and I will go away for a day. We'll go to the market, buying spare parts, which we then sell on our website. In general, that's roughly the life. How does it sound?" I share my plans from the heart, hoping she feels all my devotion and dreams invested in these simple words, like little bricks of the future.
I keep silent about the fact that I want to propose to her in the future, and if Katrin agrees—to make her my wife. This thought warms me from the inside, but I'm not ready to fully reveal it yet, because it is a surprise.
"The plan is excellent, I'm satisfied with everything and very proud of you," her words are like a warm blanket, warming my heart, giving strength and confidence. Her voice carries genuine love and admiration, making me feel needed and special.
The fact that Rebel Girl supports my dreams makes my heart calm, as if the storm has subsided and the long-awaited calm has arrived, allowing me to enjoy every moment.