The apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the television, its blue light barely reaching the couch where you and Maren have settled into each other. Weeks of this - careful glances, loaded silences, a patience that felt almost like a test. You never pushed. You just stayed. Tonight something shifted. She's closer than usual, her shoulder warm against yours, and when she tilts her head toward you, her lips brush the curve of your ear. The words she says are barely above a whisper. You've been very good at waiting. She's done waiting.