Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 80: Our quiet time together

Chapter 80: Our quiet time together

The plates between them were still warm, still steaming slightly, as if reluctant to cool down in the golden glow of the Glass Garden.

Julie twirled her fork slowly, the seafood pasta glistening under amber lights. "This is... actually unreal."

Roman, reclining slightly in his chair with that deliberate calm of his, watched her with a satisfied half-smile. "Is that a compliment for me or the chef?"

She hummed thoughtfully, still chewing. "The chef... but you get points for knowing what I’d love without asking."

His smirk was subtle. "You’re easier to read than you think."

Julie looked up at him over the rim of her glass. "I’m not easy."

"I didn’t say that." His voice was smooth, low. "I said you’re easier to read. That’s different. You have moods. Tells. Layers. But your heart? It’s honest."

Julie froze for half a second, her fork paused midway. Something in her eyes softened.

Then she smiled, almost to herself. "You really pay attention, don’t you?"

He didn’t answer. He just kept watching her—the kind of gaze that didn’t seek to own, only to understand.

A quiet jazz instrumental floated around them, threading between clinks of glass and soft conversation. But between them, it was still.

Sacred.

Julie sipped her jasmine tea, the floral scent curling into her breath. "This place... it makes time feel slower. Softer."

Roman nodded. "I thought you’d like that."

Their silence wasn’t awkward. It never was. With Roman, even silence felt like language.

Julie reached for the small bread roll, dipped it in the lemon butter, and then—without looking up—tore it in half and passed one piece across the table.

Roman raised a brow. "You’re sharing now?"

"Don’t make it weird," she muttered, but her lips curled at the edges.

He took the piece, brushing her fingers with his. "Thanks."

The touch was brief.

But it sparked something.

She didn’t speak for a moment, just stared down at her plate, cheeks faintly flushed.

"You do that a lot," Roman said, watching her over his glass.

Julie blinked. "Do what?"

"Blush. Especially when you’re pretending not to enjoy yourself."

Julie narrowed her eyes, playful now. "You keep noticing things like that and I’ll start charging you."

He leaned forward. "I already pay. Every time I see you smile."

Julie laughed softly, the sound quiet and unguarded. "Okay, that was smooth. You win."

They continued eating, light conversation drifting into memory.

"Did you have a place like this growing up?" she asked, tone gentler now.

Roman looked off for a moment. "No. I didn’t grow up with places like this. I grew up fast."

Julie tilted her head. "Too fast?"

His voice stayed even, but something flickered beneath it. "Fast enough to know that not all silence is peaceful."

Julie reached under the table and touched his hand—delicate, searching. His palm turned slowly, meeting hers halfway.

They held each other, fingers entwined beneath the linen-draped table. Not tight. Not rushed.

Just there.

Just enough.

And after a minute, Julie’s thumb gave one final brush across his knuckles before she gently slipped her hand back to her lap—like placing something precious back into a box.

Roman didn’t follow.

But the air between them felt fuller now. Warmer.

A moment later, a sharp-dressed server brought dessert—lemon sponge cake draped in vanilla cream and crowned with edible rose petals.

Julie blinked. "We’re sharing?"

"I wasn’t going to let you order more sugar after your three bread rolls."

Julie looked scandalized. "You were counting?"

"I was watching. Not judging."

She rolled her eyes. "You’re impossible."

"You’re glowing," he said, without blinking.

They took turns with the dessert, passing the spoon like it meant something. With each exchange, their fingers lingered longer. Their eyes stayed locked a little more. It wasn’t just cake.

It was a rhythm.

Julie caught him watching her again, that gaze soft and steady. She tilted her head.

"What?"

Roman gave a small shrug, almost shy. "I’m just glad you’re here."

This time, she didn’t look away.

"I’m glad too," she said.

When the dessert was gone and the tea cooling in its pot, Julie leaned her chin on her hand. "This is the most peaceful I’ve felt in months."

Roman was quiet for a beat.

Then he leaned in, his voice low. "Then let’s make a promise."

Julie raised a brow. "What kind?"

"No matter what happens... we find time like this. Quiet. Yours. Mine. Ours."

Julie stared at him.

Then, with slow certainty, she reached across the table—not to be held, but to hold him first.

"Promise," she whispered.

The bill came discreetly in a sleek leather folder.

Roman opened it, glanced once, then slid his platinum card inside and handed it off.

Julie blinked. "You didn’t even check the total."

"I don’t need to."

But when the server returned, and the folder tipped slightly open, Julie caught a glimpse of the number.

Her jaw dropped. "Wait—was that six figures?"

Roman stood casually, adjusting his cuff. "The lighting was good. That dessert was priceless."

Julie scrambled to her feet, grabbing her bag. "Roman. We ate pasta and triangle cake. Not a dragon’s egg!"

"You’re underestimating the cost of peace," he said.

Julie stared. "You’re criminal."

"And you’re radiant."

She tried to glare at him, but it fell apart. Her smile betrayed her.

Lanterns glowed overhead, casting liquid gold over stone and ivy. The valet had already brought the black sedan forward.

Roman stepped ahead and opened the passenger door, then turned back to face her with a hand slightly extended.

Julie didn’t move right away.

She looked at him.

"You always do that," she said softly.

"Do what?"

"Make things look easy. Like this. Like us."

Roman’s face didn’t change—but something in his eyes did.

"That’s because I already decided," he said. "You’re not hard to love."

Julie’s chest tightened in the best possible way.

She slipped her hand into his.

And when he helped her into the car, it wasn’t because she needed help.

It was because she mattered.

The door shut with a soft thud.

He walked around, got in beside her, and started the engine.

Julie stared out the window, the scent of gardenia still clinging to her skin.

After a moment, she glanced at him. "I still say that dessert was overpriced."

Roman smiled. "You’re just mad I didn’t let you order a fourth roll."

"Three," she corrected.

"You took half of mine. That makes three and a half."

Julie groaned. "You’re impossible."

"I’m yours."

She looked at him—and this time, the smile was quiet. Unshakable.

The car eased into the night, slipping beneath stars that blinked softly above the city.

And for the first time in a long time, Julie didn’t feel watched.

She felt safe.

The car glided past quiet neighborhoods, each window glowing faintly like fireflies tucked in sleep.

Julie rested her head near the window, lashes heavy, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

The car glided past quiet streets, their shadows stretching across the windshield like silk threads pulled by the night.

Julie leaned into the seat, the side of her face barely touching the cool window.

The city blinked softly outside—orange windows, sleeping storefronts, empty sidewalks—but none of it held her attention.

Roman was right there beside her. One hand on the wheel, the other resting between them near the gearshift. Calm. Steady. Close.

And for some reason, that closeness felt more intimate than the entire dinner.

Her heart wasn’t racing—but it wasn’t still either. It beat gently, as if trying to memorize this rhythm. The quiet. The safe. Him.

Roman glanced at her. "Tired?"

She nodded slowly. "A little... but it’s the good kind. The kind where your body’s full, your chest is light, and nothing feels heavy anymore."

His lips quirked—just barely—but he didn’t say anything.

The radio hummed softly. Low piano keys, the kind that drifted rather than played.

Julie curled her fingers in her lap, then reached over without thinking, resting the tips of them against the back of his hand.

Not a grab. Not a statement.

Just... there.

Roman’s fingers twitched slightly under hers, then settled—still and present.

Julie didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. If she did, she might ruin the moment with too many thoughts, too many words.

’ Is this what ease feels like?

Is this how it’s supposed to be—not performing, not pretending, not panicking?’

She exhaled through her nose, slow. Her fingers stayed on his.

"I like it tonight," she whispered, eyes still forward.

Roman’s voice came just as softly. "Me too."

She turned to him then, really turned, catching the outline of his face under the passing glow of the streetlights.

The way his lashes framed his eyes. The way the tension that always lived in his jaw was... gone.

Roman looked at her, his tone sure. "Then we’ll make more nights like this."

Julie swallowed. Her heart didn’t flutter—it pressed deeper into her chest like it was sinking into something real.

It scared her a little, how easy it was becoming..

How safe she felt in a world that had never once promised her safety.

But Roman... Roman was starting to feel like a promise all by himself.

She leaned back in the seat, her fingers brushing against his again.

But in another second she feels his hand lacing his fingers through hers without needing to be asked.

And this time, she let herself hold on.

From this xxx please don’t go reading it because it the words get multiplied.

Thank you for your time.

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The radio hummed softly. Low piano keys, the kind that drifted rather than played.

Julie curled her fingers in her lap, then reached over without thinking, resting the tips of them against the back of his hand.

Not a grab. Not a statement.

Just... there.

Roman’s fingers twitched slightly under hers, then settled—still and present.

Julie didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. If she did, she might ruin the moment with too many thoughts, too many words.

’ Is this what ease feels like?

Is this how it’s supposed to be—not performing, not pretending, not panicking?’

She exhaled through her nose, slow. Her fingers stayed on his.

"I like it tonight," she whispered, eyes still forward.

Roman’s voice came just as softly. "Me too."

She turned to him then, really turned, catching the outline of his face under the passing glow of the streetlights.

The way his lashes framed his eyes. The way the tension that always lived in his jaw was... gone.

Roman looked at her, his tone sure. "Then we’ll make more nights like this."

Julie swallowed. Her heart didn’t flutter—it pressed deeper into her chest like it was sinking into something real.

It scared her a little, how easy it was becoming..

How safe she felt in a world that had never once promised her safety.

But Roman... Roman was starting to feel like a promise all by himself.

She leaned back in the seat, her fingers brushing against his again.

This time, he turned his hand upward, lacing his fingers through hers without needing to be asked.

And this time, she let herself hold on.