"What does your therapist say about us?"
"That I need to become someone worthy of trust before I ask for it back."
I set his phone down. Study his face, looking for the lie.
Don't find one.
"What do you need from me?" His voice is careful. "Regarding the baby. Whatever you're comfortable with—I'll respect it."
The question surprises me. Notwhat do I want from us, butwhat do you need.
"I don't know yet," I admit. "I've been so focused on surviving, I haven't thought past... just getting through each day."
"Can I help? Financially, I mean. You shouldn't be working at a coffee shop while pregnant with my child."
"That feels like buying forgiveness."
"It's not. It's making sure you and the baby are taken care of. That's separate from us."
I consider this. "Doctor appointments. You can come to those. If you want."
"I want to." The relief in his voice is palpable. "When's the next one?"
"Two weeks."
"I'll be there."
We sit in silence for a moment. The question I've been avoiding rises up, demanding to be asked.
"How do I know you won't do this again?" My voice breaks. "The second things get hard, the second you get scared—how do I know you won't destroy me again?"
He doesn't answer immediately. Doesn't rush to reassure me.
Finally: "You don't. I don't know either. All I can do is show you every day that I'm doing the work."
"That's not very reassuring."
"It's honest."
And honesty, right now, means more than promises.
"I can't go through that again," I say quietly. "I won't survive it."
"You shouldn't have had to survive it the first time." He leans forward. "Bailey, I broke your trust. I destroyed what we had. You don't owe me forgiveness. You don't owe me another chance."
"Then what are we doing here?"
"I'm asking—not demanding, asking—for the chance to earn your trust back. Not today. Not next week. However long it takes."
"What if it takes forever?"
"Then I spend forever trying." His voice is steady. "Because you're worth it. And I finally figured that out."
I study his face. The dark circles. The exhaustion. The absolute lack of armor.
This isn't the Daniel who destroyed me. But is it the Daniel I fell in love with?
Or is it someone new?
