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Leia and Luke, after all the wars.
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"I missed you."
"I missed you more."
She had to say the words but neither of them paused now as they met in the middle of the space between them for an embrace. He was as solid and as fragile as she remembered, his grey hair smelling of woodsmoke and the good, fresh scent of the clear air around them. She felt his arms take in the changes in her since they last hugged this hard, the places she'd grown harder and where she'd grown softer. She could feel the edge of his mind, not open to her yet, not ready, but close and warm and radiant with love.
Luke always gave the best hugs.
All she could see, all any of them could see, was two middle-aged people who had known each other forever, and who had loved each other all their lives, and who intended to spend the rest of those lives together in a house that was everything either needed of home.
If that didn't make Luke her husband, nothing would.
"He will. I'll make sure of it."