You okay? You were quiet today at Emily’s.
I’m okay, I promise! And it’s not your fault!
Tell me about you and Caleb. What happened last night?
Bas. I can see you’re reading my texts.
Call me when you wake up
I don’t text back.
I can’t talk to Morgan yet. I can’t talk to Barbara or Emily either. This isn’t something I can filter into a funny anecdote or a half-truth. Because the truth is… I don’t feel violated.
I feel… exposed. Seen. Like something I’ve been holding together with clenched teeth finally cracked open, and instead of bleeding out, I can breathe.
That’s the part that terrifies me.
I push myself upright and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The floor is cold. Real. Grounding. I wrap my cardigan around myself and step into the hallway.
Caleb is exactly where I expect him to be—sitting on the edge of the couch, forearms braced on his thighs, head bowed like he’s been staring at the floor for hours. He looks up the second he hears me.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey.”
I hover there, suddenly unsure where to put my hands. This man has held me together through terror and threat. He has seen me cry and rage and laugh hysterically at the wrong moments.
And still—this feels harder.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “Me neither.”
Silence stretches. I take a breath. Then another. “I need to talk to you about something,” I say.
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Okay.”
I move closer, but I don’t sit next to him. I stay standing, grounding myself through my feet, my spine.
“I’ve been thinking about… what happened,” I begin carefully. “About what almost happened. And what did happen. And about the fact that I’m not angry.”
His eyes flick up to mine. Dark. Focused. Waiting.
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t cross a line,” I continue. “You did. You should know that.”
He winces, then nods once. “I do.”
I swallow. My throat feels tight, but my chest doesn’t. There’s no panic there. Just resolve.
“But I also need you to hear this part,” I say. “I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t feel trapped. I felt… calm. Like my mind finally shut up for the first time in months.”
Caleb exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s steadying himself.
“I’ve spent so long being alert,” I go on. “Watching doors. Watching hands. Watching faces. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I wasn’t in charge anymore.”
His fingers curl against his knees.
“I don’t want to lose myself,” I say quietly. “But I do want to choose when I let go. And who I trust with that.” I finally meet his eyes fully. “I trust you.”
