“Today,” I said quietly, “do you want me here?”
Her eyes opened.
“Yes.”
It was the first completely honest answer either of us had given.
I waited.
Michelle moved first.
She reached for my hand.
No accident.
No excuse.
No box that needed lifting.
No mug being passed across a counter.
Just her hand taking mine.
She led me toward the couch.
We sat together.
Closer this time.
She told me about Daniel.
Not the simplified version everyone knew.
The real story.
How he had convinced her she was too demanding whenever she asked why he came home late.
How she found hotel receipts.
How he blamed her for checking.
How humiliation had made her distrust her own instincts for years.
“I promised myself I would never need anyone enough to be made stupid again,” she said.
I squeezed her hand.
“You’re not stupid.”
“I walked into your bedroom wearing a towel.”
