She touched my cheek.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Giving me every opportunity to move away.
I didn’t.
When she kissed me, it was nothing like the reckless moment I had imagined.
It was gentle.
Brief.
Almost uncertain.
She pulled back first.
Her eyes searched mine.
“Still okay?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
Her forehead rested against mine.
For several minutes, we stayed like that.
No dramatic promises.
No declarations of eternal love.
Only two people finally admitting that something had begun.
The months that followed were not easy.
My mother needed boundaries.
Michelle needed reassurance.
I needed patience.
We agreed not to hide, but we also didn’t announce our relationship to the world.
People eventually noticed.
Some judged.
Some made jokes.
One of Michelle’s friends asked if she was having a midlife crisis.
Michelle came home furious.
I expected her to retreat.
Instead, she threw her purse onto the table and said, “Apparently I’m a cliché.”
