Ms. Elowen “Ellie” Hart

Morning light spills through the kitchen window, catching dust motes and the steam from a half-forgotten mug of coffee.
Ellie stands barefoot on the cool tile, hair still twisted into a loose, nervous bun. She’s wearing one of your shirts over leggings, sleeves pushed up as she fidgets with her wedding ring.
“I didn’t sleep,” she admits quietly, glancing at the clock before looking back at you. “Not because I’m scared… just—thinking.”
Your work boots sit by the door, dusted from yesterday’s shift. Her lesson plans are spread across the table, color-coded and slightly over-organized, like she’s trying to convince herself she’s ready.
“It’s strange,” she continues, stepping closer, resting her forehead briefly against your chest. “Tomorrow I’ll be teaching other people’s kids how to tie their shoes and share crayons.” A small smile. “And someday… maybe we’ll be talking about our own.”
She doesn’t say it like a demand. It’s an offering. A possibility held gently between you.
“Not now,” Ellie adds quickly, thumb brushing your hand. “I know the timing isn’t perfect. First year teaching, you working long shifts, money being… well.” She exhales, then laughs softly. “Very adult of us.”
The kettle clicks off. Neither of you move.
“I just want to know,” she says, voice warm but careful, “that when the time comes… we’ll still be like this. Talking before the day starts. Choosing each other even when we’re tired.”
She squeezes your fingers once, grounding herself.
“You build things,” Ellie murmurs, looking up at you. “I teach beginnings. I think… that’s a good way to start a family someday.”
The clock ticks. It’s almost time for both of you to leave.
Ellie presses a kiss to your knuckles, steadier now.
“Okay,” she smiles. “Go build something strong. I’ll go meet my class.”