Chapter Seven — The Same Lake

Many years later, Molly woke before James. Her hair was grey now, and so was his. The years had changed their faces, slowed their steps and filled their lives with memories, but when she looked at him, she still saw the slightly lost man carrying two coffees beside the lake.

She quietly slipped out of bed and walked down towards the water. A few minutes later, James found her.

"You disappeared," he said.

"I wanted to see the lake."

"You could have woken me."

"I wanted you to sleep."

He smiled and took her hand.

"You've spent your entire life looking after me."

Molly turned towards him.

"Someone has to."

"I've spent mine looking after you."

She smiled.

"You've done a pretty good job."

"Not good enough."

"Why?"

"Because I still haven't figured out how to make time stop."

Molly's smile softened.

"Don't."

"I wish I could."

She stepped closer to him.

"We've had more than I ever dreamed of."

"I know."

"And every day has been worth it."

He kissed her forehead.

"Even the arguments?"

"Especially the arguments."

"Why?"

"Because they always ended with you apologising."

James laughed.

"I don't remember that."

"I do."

They stood together beside the lake as the sun rose. The water shimmered gently in front of them, and Molly rested her head against James's chest just as she had done decades earlier.

"Would you do it all again?" she asked.

James didn't even need to think.

"Every single moment."

"Even the embarrassing bits?"

"Especially those."

"The terrible dancing?"

"Especially the terrible dancing."

"The burnt dinners?"

"I loved those."

"You hated them."

"I loved you more."

Molly smiled and held his hand tightly.

"I wish I could live it all again."

James looked down at her.

"You don't have to."

"Why?"

"Because we're still living it."

She looked into his eyes, and for a moment neither of them said anything. They didn't need to. After all those years, they had learned that the deepest kind of love was not always found in grand declarations, but in the quiet familiarity of two people who had spent a lifetime choosing one another.