Char inhaled.“We’re seeing each other.”
Nita’s attention snapped to her.“Char.”
“I’m okay,” Char said, quietly but firmly.
That got my attention.I had watch her shut down on herself when voices rose.Seen her retreat.This wasn’t that.This was her holding her ground.
Nita studied her for a long moment, then looked back at me.“You know she’s had a rough go.”
“I do.”I sat back in the chair to take on whatever this female wanted to throw at me.I knew she was doing all of this out of love and I would never fault anyone for that.
“You know what she’s been through?How long she lived that?”
“I do,” I repeated, and meant it in a way that went beyond the report I’d written that night.
Her jaw tightened.“And you’re not here to save her.Because regardless of your intention, she doesn’t need a knight to ride in and save the day.We don’t buy into fairy tales either.”
It wasn’t an accusation.It was a warning.
I met her eyes.“No.I believe she can save herself.”
Silence stretched.Char’s foot brushed against mine under the table, tentative.Anchoring.
“I’m not here to fix anything,” I said.“I’m just here.”
That was the closest I could get to the truth without overstepping into promises I wasn’t ready to make.Dinner resumed, but something had shifted.Not broken, just clarified, like we all knew where we stood..
Later, when plates were cleared and coffee poured, Char leaned into me on the couch, shoulder warm against my side.It felt natural.Too natural.Her head tipped slightly toward me, and I was suddenly acutely aware of how easily I could wrap an arm around her.How much I wanted to.
I didn’t.
Because wanting wasn’t the same as doing.
Nita sat across from us, watching again.But this time, there was something else there.Not approval.Not trust.Acceptance, maybe.Or at least the beginning of it.
When it was time to leave, Char hugged everyone goodbye, lingering with Nita.I waited by the door, listening to their low voices, catching fragments.
“…seems different…”
“…careful…”
“…I know…”
Char came back to me, eyes a little glassy but steady.She slipped her hand into mine without asking.I let her.The drive back was quiet.Comfortable.The kind of quiet that lets thoughts breathe.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said finally.
“Do what?”
“Answer for me.”
I kept my eyes on the road.“You looked like you needed space.”
She nodded.“Thank you.”
We stopped at a light, and I glanced over at her.Really looked at her.The strength she didn’t always see in herself.The way she was still standing, still trying.
Something settled in my chest then.It wasn’t love.I knew that.Love was heavier.Louder.More dangerous.But this—this was care.Real and solid and growing roots where I hadn’t planned to plant anything.
