It begins with a single game of darts as night fades into the fiery rose sheen of dawn. All around them are the remnants of hours of fun; empty cups, spilled drinks and food. She is bleary-eyed: exhausted but content with the feeling of a job well done.

He walks into the room, here, ostensibly, to help clean. He brings gifts – trash bags and a vacuum cleaner, and she thinks about how much easier the cleanup will go since he is here to assist.

But the cleaning supplies are set down; his attention lured by a few forgotten darts, sitting lonely on a side table. “Let’s play a game of darts,” he says, and she purses her lips in frustration.

She shakes her head, but rises to her feet anyway, swaying a little while blood rushes to her head – she’s been sitting for far too long. She reaches out and he hands her a dart. “I don’t know how to throw one,” she complains.

He moves behind her, shows her his well-practiced flick of the wrist, and she is comforted by his proximity. He throws a dart at the target in the wall, barely missing the center of the target. “You try,” he tells her, a smile on his face that lights up the dim room.

She throws one, but it hits the wall below the target and bounces onto the carpet that she briefly thinks must be full of snack crumbs. She chuckles a little at her lack of skill, but he just gives her another dart and takes her arm, covering it with his. “Ready?” he asks. She nods, breathing faster when she thinks, again, of their closeness. He uses his hand to guide hers as they throw in tandem.

The dart hits the bull’s-eye, and he cheers, but she just turns to look at him with a slight smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. In this moment, she forgets everything except the three words she is about to blurt out, three words she hopes she will feel forever.

“I love you,” she says in a near-whisper, and he looks at her, a little stricken, but happy nonetheless. “I love you too,” he says back and his smile is framed by a halo of rose-colored morning light.