Tolin appears in the bedroom doorway, watching me.
“What’s that?”
“My savings.” I look up at him. “I’ve been putting away whatever I could since I got here. For furniture. For making this place feel like a home.” I laugh softly. “For the green chair.”
He sits beside me on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “The one at Cozy Corner.”
“Yeah. Four hundred and forty-nine dollars. I finally have enough.” I run my fingers over the bills. “I was going to buy it piece by piece, you know? One thing at a time. The chair first, then maybe a real table. Eventually a couch that doesn’t try to swallow you when you sit down.”
“Why the chair first?”
I’m quiet for a moment, trying to find the words.
“Because it was beautiful,” I finally say. “This deep emerald green velvet. The kind of chair you see in magazines, in homes that belong to people who have their lives together. Every time I walked past that store, I’d stop and look at it through the window. And I’d think... someday. Someday I’ll have a home nice enough to deserve a chair like that.”
Tolin doesn’t say anything. Just reaches over and takes my hand.
“I know it sounds stupid,” I continue. “Getting so attached to a piece of furniture. But it representedsomething to me. Building a life. Creating a home you never want to leave.” I swallow hard. “I’ve never had that. Not once in my entire life. I wanted to build it for myself, one piece at a time, so I’d know it was real. So I’d know no one could take it away.”
“It’s not stupid.” His voice is low, rough with emotion. “It’s not stupid at all.”
“I have enough now.” I close the shoebox and hold it in my lap. “I can finally start.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Thoughts and emotions churn inside him, visible in the stillness. Then he takes the shoebox gently from my hands.
“This money is yours,” he says. “For emergencies. For whatever you want. But you’re not spending it on furniture.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he keeps talking.
“I’m buying the furniture. All of it. The chair, a real couch, a dining table that doesn’t wobble, a bedroom set that doesn’t squeak. Everything you need to make a home.” He sets the shoebox aside and takes both my hands in his. “You’ve spent your whole life taking care of yourself, Imani. Building from nothing, piece by piece, because no one else was going to do it for you. But you’re not alone anymore. Let me do this. Please.”
“Tolin...”
“I know you don’t need me to take care of you. You’ve proven that a hundred times over. But I want to. I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.” His eyes are intense, burning into mine. “You talked about building a home you never want to leave. But I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks.
“You already have that. You’ve had it since the moment I claimed you.” His voice drops, thick with emotion. “Home isn’t a cabin or an apartment or a fancy chair, Imani. Home is you. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. I don’t care if we live in a mansion or a cardboard box. As long as I have you, I’m home.”
Tears blur my vision. They spill down my cheeks, hot and fast, and I don’t even try to wipe them away.
“Damn it, Tolin.” My voice breaks. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“I can and I will.” He pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me, letting me cry against his chest. “Every day for the rest of our lives, I’m going to remind you that you’re loved. That you’re wanted. That you have a home that no one can ever take away.”
I cling to him, sobbing like a fool, years of loneliness and longing pouring out of me. He just holds me through it, stroking my hair, pressing kisses to the top of my head, letting me fall apart because he knows he’ll put me back together.
When the tears finally slow, I pull back and wipe my face with my sleeve.
“I’m a mess,” I say with a watery laugh.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I have snot on my face.”
“Still beautiful.”
