The Way the Light Fell

It was a Tuesday when Amaya first saw him(Joshef)—just another gray morning in New York, the kind that blurred into the rest, until the sunlight broke through the clouds for half a second and lit his face like something out of a movie.

Joshef was reading a book on the steps of the library—head down, one leg tucked under the other, a worn leather satchel beside him. The book looked ancient, the pages yellowed and thick, the kind of thing nobody read anymore. And yet there he was, completely lost in it.

She didn’t believe in love at first sight. But maybe in something softer—like a pause. A quiet moment when the world seemed to hold its breath.

And in that moment, she paused.

For the next three weeks, she saw him every Tuesday, always on those same steps, always at 8:20 a.m. She timed her coffee run to match, which was ridiculous, because Amaya was not a morning person. Her roommate noticed the sudden change.

“Who is he?” joshef asked one morning as Amaya bolted out the door, hair still damp.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amaya replied, feigning innocence.

Joshef just smirked.

Eventually, it happened. A book fell—his. It slipped from under his arm as he reached into his bag, and before he could grab it, Amaya was already bending down to hand it back.

“Here,” she said, offering it up. “You dropped this.”

Their eyes met. He had those storm-gray eyes you could get lost in.

“Thanks,” he said, and smiled.

She could’ve walked away then. Maybe she should have. But instead, she glanced at the book’s title.

“Wuthering Heights?” she asked. “Isn’t that like... a little over the top?”

Joshef laughed, which lit up his whole face. “Yeah, maybe. I like the drama. I'm Leo, by the way.”

“Amaya.”

And that was how it began.

---

They started meeting every Tuesday, then Thursday, then Saturdays, until Amaya couldn’t remember what it felt like to walk through the city without him by her side. They talked about everything: books, favorite movies, the best pizza spots in Brooklyn. He loved old music and hated elevators. She was terrified of birds and obsessed with thunderstorms.

Joshef made her feel like the world was quieter when he was near. Like there was finally space to breathe.

He kissed her in the middle of a crowded park, under a sky full of cotton-candy clouds, with jazz playing somewhere in the distance. It wasn’t planned. It was just the way he looked at her, and the way she looked back, and how everything seemed to fall into place after that.

---

Of course, love isn't just falling. It's the staying.

They had their fights. About little things, like how she never let her phone ring, or how he forgot to call when he stayed late at the bookstore. But they always came back. Always.

There was one night, though, that stuck with her. They were sitting in his apartment, rain tapping against the windows, when he asked, "Do you ever think about forever?"

She didn’t answer right away. The word scared her. Too big. Too fragile.

But then she looked at him—barefoot, in that ridiculous sweater she once teased him about—and realized she already had her answer.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

---

The proposal wasn’t grand. No flash mobs or hidden photographers. Just a quiet morning in December, the city wrapped in snow, and Leo down on one knee in front of the library steps.

"Because this is where I saw you first," he said, holding out a ring. “And everything changed.”

She cried. Of course she did.

---

They built a life together slowly, deliberately. They traveled when they could, collected postcards from every city. They framed the first one from Venice—it hung above their tiny kitchen table. Every Sunday, they made pancakes and danced barefoot on the cold tile floor. Some nights, they fell asleep talking about nothing at all. Other nights, about everything.

Years passed. Seasons shifted. Wrinkles came quietly, laughter lines earned from years of joy.

They never stopped saying "I love you," even on the hard days.

Especially on the hard days.

---

On their 45th anniversary, Leo gave her the original copy of *Wuthering Heights*, now more worn than ever. Inside the front cover, he had written:

**"You were the pause before the world made sense. I’d choose you in every life."**

She cried again. And he still smiled like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

---

In the end, it wasn’t a dramatic goodbye. No music, no rain. Just him in bed, her hand in his, sunlight creeping across the sheets.

“I’ll see you,” he whispered, voice fading.

“In every chapter,” she said, pressing a kiss to his temple. “In every line.”

And he was gone.

---

Emma still walked by the library every Tuesday.

She didn’t believe in love at first sight.

But she believed in moments—the kind that change everything.

And she believed in the way the light fell on that one morning.

Just enough for her to see him.

Just enough to begin.

Part 2 coming soon.....