When they were on their way home, darkness had long since settled over the world outside, and streetlights flickered to life along the roadside, their soft, hazy glow casting gentle shadows over the couple. Rachel Foster rested one hand against her forehead as she leaned back in her seat, the other hand—resting softly on her thigh, cradled in her husband's warm, assuring palm. Kingsly Scott drove steadily with one hand as his large, confident grip caressed her delicate skin with a tenderness that spoke of deep, abiding contentment.
"Aren't you tired?" Kingsly Scott ventured gently, noticing how her silence hinted at a mind adrift in thought. Breaking the quiet, he asked again. Rachel slowly turned her head, her eyes meeting Kingsly's earnest, compassionate gaze. In a husky whisper, she murmured, "I just find it hard to believe..."
"What?" he pressed softly.
"I… find it almost unbelievable that you and I… can be together."
