(Iris’s POV)
A few months have passed.
I’ve watched Eli—watched how he never gave up, never wavered, never treated me differently even after I told him about my bipolar disorder.
He stayed.
Through my highs, when I was reckless and impulsive, dragging him into spontaneous adventures.
Through my lows, when I couldn’t get out of bed for days, ignoring his messages and shutting him out.
And yet, he stayed.
So maybe… maybe it’s time I stop pushing him away. Maybe it’s time I take a chance.
I grip my phone tightly, my heart racing as I type the message.
Me: Hey, do you wanna go out?
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Eli: Who are you and what did you do to Iris?
I roll my eyes, but a small smile tugs at my lips.
Me: Shut up. I’m asking seriously.
Eli: Then my answer is seriously YES. When and where?
I hesitate. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I just knew I wanted to do this—to try.
Me: Tonight? At the coffee shop where we first met?
Eli: Done. 7 PM. Don’t be late.
Me: No promises.
I put my phone down, exhaling shakily.
I’m scared.
What if I ruin this? What if I’m too much? What if he realizes I’m not worth all the effort?
I shake my head, forcing those thoughts away.
No.
I’ve spent too much time running. Too much time convinced that I don’t deserve something good.
Eli has shown me, over and over, that he’s different.
Maybe it’s time I believe it.
Maybe it’s time I let myself try.
Later that Night – Coffee Shop
The moment I step inside, I see him.
Eli is sitting by the window, sketchbook open, coffee in hand. He looks up as the door chimes, and when he sees me, his face breaks into a grin.
I feel my heart stutter.
I walk over, suddenly feeling nervous. “Hey.”
He tilts his head. “You actually came. I was starting to think you’d stand me up.”
I scoff, sitting down. “You think so little of me.”
“Not at all.” He leans back, watching me. “I think you’re still scared. But you came anyway.”
I look away. “I… wanted to try.”
His expression softens. “Then let’s try together.”
And for the first time in a long time, I let hope in.
Maybe this won’t be easy.
Maybe I’ll still have bad days.
Maybe I’ll still be scared.
But Eli is here. And for now, that’s enough.
And yes, we officially became a couple.
It still feels surreal.
For the longest time, I thought love wasn’t meant for me. That my bipolar disorder made me incapable of maintaining a real relationship. That no one would have the patience to deal with me on my worst days.
But Eli proved me wrong.
He didn’t push me to change. He didn’t make me feel broken or unlovable. He simply accepted me—every part of me.
And now, here we are.
Sitting across from each other at the same coffee shop where we first met, but this time, there’s something different. Something warm. Something real.
He’s staring at me, a smirk playing on his lips.
“What?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m just thinking,” he says, tapping his pen against his sketchbook. “Now that you’re officially my girlfriend, does that mean I get unlimited access to seeing your paintings?”
I roll my eyes. “You already do.”
“Yeah, but now I can call myself your muse,” he teases.
I scoff. “Excuse me, but I’m the artist here. If anything, you should be calling me your muse.”
He grins. “Fine. You’re my muse, Iris.”
And just like that, my heart flutters.
This is new to me—feeling happy without waiting for the sadness to creep back in.
But for once, I don’t want to overthink it. I just want to enjoy the moment.
Eli suddenly closes his sketchbook and leans forward. “Hey… can I ask you something?”
I nod. “Yeah?”
His expression turns serious. “If one day… things get tough—like, really tough—will you let me stay?”
I freeze.
Because that’s my biggest fear, isn’t it? That one day, I’ll spiral too deep, and he’ll see the ugliest parts of me.
But looking into his eyes, I see nothing but certainty.
He’s not just asking for now. He’s asking for every version of me—the good, the bad, the unbearable.
I take a shaky breath.
“Yes,” I whisper. “But only if you promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“That if one day you get tired… you’ll tell me before you decide to leave.”
Eli reaches across the table, his fingers lacing with mine.
“I promise.”
And for the first time, I let myself believe in us.