Olivia's POV
My alarm buzzed exactly at 7:30. I groaned softly, reached over to tap it off, then turned to Adrian's side of the bed.
It was empty.
I frowned.
"They didn't talk for hours… did they?" I asked myself.
I got up, slipped on my slippers, and opened the bedroom door. The hallway was quiet.
"Noah?" I called softly as I walked toward his room. I knocked on his door a few times, but there was no answer.
I went to the living room, and that's when I saw it—a note stuck to the center of the table.
I picked it up and read:
"I'm driving Noah to the train station. I'll be back immediately after."
The handwriting was Adrian's.
I nodded to myself and let out a small breath.
"So he's leaving this morning," I thought.
A small sadness curled in my chest. I hadn't even been able to see Noah off or say goodbye properly.
Still, I folded the note and set it aside, then headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.
I took out bread and a pan, put some butter in, and let it melt before laying the slices down. The soft sizzling sound filled the quiet kitchen.
While I was busy flipping toast, I heard the familiar sound of Adrian's truck pulling up outside.
A smile formed on my lips without me even thinking about it.
A moment later, the front door opened and closed. Footsteps moved down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Then two warm arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
I smiled.
"Good morning," I said.
He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my neck.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hayes," he whispered.
A small giggle escaped me.
"That's a good name," I replied.
He smiled against my skin.
"You'll be carrying it very soon," he said in a low, playful voice.
My heart fluttered. I turned my head slightly.
"I'll hold you to that," I said. "Now go prepare plates for the toast."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, stepping back.
I listened to the sound of cabinets opening and closing. I was waiting for the familiar clatter of two plates, but when he came back, he was holding only one.
I looked at him, confused.
"Just one?" I asked.
He shrugged lightly, eyes sparkling.
"We share a bed," he said. "Surely sharing a plate is not a problem, right?"
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop the smile.
"You're impossible," I muttered.
He didn't hand me the plate. Instead, he moved closer to the stove and insisted on transferring the toast himself. I let him take over and walked to the fridge to get the milk.
I poured it into a glass and took a sip, the cold sweetness calming my throat.
When I turned around, Adrian suddenly leaned in and kissed me.
It was quick but full, catching me completely off guard.
He pulled away with a grin. I stayed frozen, eyes wide, milk still in my mouth. I almost choked as I tried to swallow.
He laughed.
"Sharing milk is not a problem, too, right?" he said.
I finally swallowed and stared at him.
"You're so sneaky," I said, but there was no real anger in my voice.
Inside, I was surprised at how much he had changed in just a short time. After I brought up marriage, it was like a new door inside Adrian had unlocked.
He felt more romantic now, more openly affectionate, but still in his own playful, sneaky way.
And I wasn't complaining at all.
We sat down together and started eating breakfast from the same plate, our knees touching under the table.
Between bites, I looked at him.
"Why didn't you wake me up when Noah was leaving?" I asked. "I wish I could have said goodbye."
He chewed, then answered.
"Noah told me not to wake you," he said. "He said you needed rest."
I nodded slowly, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness.
"Oh, right," Adrian added suddenly. "He left a note for you. He told me to give it to you."
He stood up, walked to where his coat was hanging, and reached into the pocket.
"Here," he said, handing me a small folded paper.
I opened it while chewing a piece of toast. The note said only:
"Take care of my brother."
I giggled. The words were simple, but they carried weight.
"What is it?" Adrian asked, leaning forward. "What did he write?"
I looked at him with a teasing smile, then crumpled the note in my hand and hid it behind my back.
"Secret," I said.
His eyes narrowed playfully.
"Don't tell me it's a love letter?" he said, pretending to be jealous but failing to hide his smile.
I hopped off my chair and moved away. He stood up and followed me. We ended up circling the kitchen island, him reaching for the hand with the note, me dodging and laughing.
"Give it," he said. "I want to see."
"No," I answered, laughing.
We kept running around until he finally cut me off. He grabbed one of my hands and wrapped his other arm around my waist.
With a quick movement, he lifted me and set me down on the kitchen island counter.
I let out a surprised squeak.
"Adrian!"
He stood between my legs, still holding my waist, and looked up at me with a playful smirk.
"I would break his neck if he even tried to write you a love letter," he said, then burst out laughing.
I smacked his chest lightly.
"You literally don't know how to threaten people, do you?" I said.
He raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"If you want to look and sound scary," I said, trying not to laugh, "you should stop laughing after your sentences. You can't say 'I'll kill you' and then start laughing. No one will take you seriously. You'd never get cast as a villain in a crime movie."
He laughed even harder.
"Good," he said. "I don't want to be the villain anyway."
We both calmed down a little. He glanced at my closed hand.
"So," he asked, more gently now. "Is it something I really can't see?"
I smoothed the note out, straightened the paper, and held it up for him to read.
He leaned in and read the words.
"Take care of my brother," he read aloud.
We both chuckled.
"That sounds like him," Adrian said. "Bossing you around even when he's not here."
"Someone has to keep an eye on you," I replied.
He looked at me for a moment, his smile softening, and somehow the space between us felt smaller, warmer.
I don't know who moved first. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was me.
But the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine again.
This kiss was slower, more gentle than the quick surprise from earlier. His hands rested securely at my waist, and my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
In that small kitchen, with crumbs on the table and toast on a shared plate, we just stayed like that for a while, kissing and breathing each other in.
November came, and with it, the air grew cooler, the trees turned orange, red, and yellow, painting the streets in warm shades. Leaves crunched under our feet.
We were all reunited again.
In the small chapel in town, bells rang softly as people gathered. The space smelled like flowers and old wood. Sunlight filtered through the windows, touching the pews with golden light.
I stood at the front in my dress, hands slightly shaking, heart beating fast. When the doors opened, and I started walking down the aisle, all I saw was Adrian's face at the end, eyes full of warmth and something that looked like forever.
Noah stood with the others, watching with a small, proud smile. His parents were there, eyes bright with emotion.
We said our vows with steady voices. We slipped rings onto each other's fingers. When Adrian kissed me as his wife for the first time, the world felt both loud and quiet at once—cheers around us, but inside, just a deep, calm yes.
It was everything I had hoped for.
Me getting married.
To the man I love, while outside the chapel, the world was covered in orange, red, and yellow hues of autumn.
Our golden autumn.