Page 82 of Unlocking Melodies

After we finished eating, Ethan stood with sudden purpose, holding out his hand. "Come with me."

I raised an eyebrow but let him pull me to my feet. "Where are we going?"

"You’ll see," he said with a grin, leading me toward the edge of the clearing. The fairy lights around us twinkled brighter against the growing darkness, turning the night into a storybook scene. I stumbled slightly on a tree root, but his hand tightened around mine, steadying me.

“Careful there. Can’t have you breaking something,” he teased.

“If I do, you’re carrying me back.”

“Deal.”

We stepped onto a narrow path lined with moss and wildflowers. Ethan stopped abruptly in front of a small, wooden dock jutting out into the lake. The water rippled softly in the moonlight, the reflection of the fairy lights turning it into a shimmering pool of gold.

He let go of my hand and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out something small and metallic. A lighter? No, it was too intricate. Before I could ask, he flicked it open, and a faint spark ignited. The tip of a candle wick caught fire, and soon the soft glow illuminated a glass jar. He placed it carefully on the edge of the dock, then pulled out another, and another, until a line of flickering lights traced the length of the wooden planks.

“Ethan, what is this?” I asked, my voice hushed.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork before turning to me. “You once told me you’d always wanted to send out a lantern like they do in the movies but never got the chance.”

My throat tightened. “That was years ago. I didn’t think you even remembered.”

“I remember a lot more than you give me credit for,” he said softly. His gaze met mine, steady and filled with something I couldn’t quite name but felt down to my bones. “So, tonight, we’re doing it. Come on.”

He handed me a paper lantern, the kind I’d only ever seen in old pictures or festivals on TV. It felt impossibly delicate in myhands. Ethan crouched down beside me, striking a match to light the small fuel cell inside.

“Make a wish,” he said as the flame caught, his voice almost a whisper.

“That’s not part of it,” I replied, but he shrugged, the corner of his mouth tilting up.

“Maybe not. But it feels right, doesn’t it?”

I stared at the lantern, the soft glow casting shadows over my hands. A million thoughts swirled in my mind, but one rose above the rest. The kind of wish you don’t say out loud because saying it might shatter it. When I finally looked back at Ethan, he was already watching me.

“Ready?” he asked, and the warmth in his voice made it impossible to look away.

I nodded. Together, we held the lantern aloft. For a moment, it hesitated, wobbling as if unsure whether it wanted to leave us. Then, with a sudden lift, it floated upward, joining the stars.

“There it goes,” Ethan murmured, his voice tinged with wonder.

I watched it climb higher, until it was just another point of light in the vast sky. “Thank you,” I said, my throat tight with unspoken emotions.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his hand brushing against mine. “For what it’s worth, I made a wish too.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you wish for?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ethan’s smile turned small and private, the kind that made my chest ache. “If I tell you, it might not come true.”

“That’s not how it works,” I teased.

“Maybe not. But it feels right.”

The echo of his earlier words hung between us, weaving something fragile but unbreakable. We stayed there for a long time, watching the lantern’s glow until it faded into the night,and I wondered if he’d always been my wish, long before I knew I could make one.

“Our audience is getting emotional,” I whispered against Ethan's shoulder.

“Can you blame them? This is probably better than their usual evening entertainment.”

“You mean better than bridge club drama? I'm shocked.”

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