The bullying.
The belief that we had to be enemies rather than allies.
The cruelty I directed at her—and through Nikki, the cruelty she experienced from my other half that I did nothing to prevent.
I made my bed and had to lie in it. The consequences of my choices—of Nikki's choices, of our shared choices made from a consciousness that couldn't separate individual responsibility—were always going to catch up with us eventually. Having her hate me, or hate the female version of me, was a hard cross to bear.
But now I see the full weight of those consequences.
The distance they created.
The trust they damaged.
The potential love they might have poisoned before it had chance to grow.
I hug her back.
My arms wrap around her with desperation I can't hide, clinging to this woman who represents everything I might have lost through my own failures. The embrace is raw, unfiltered, carrying none of the calculated restraint that Fae interaction usually demands.
She whispers against my hair.
"I love you very much."
The words land in my chest like stars falling from heights I didn't know existed.
Love.
She loves me.
Despite everything—the cruelty, the distance, the complicated mess that defines our history—she loves me.
"So if you feel lost," she continues, her voice soft but carrying conviction that refuses to be dismissed, "empty... sad... lonely... it's okay."
Each word addresses the specific aches that have been tormenting me.
Lost—yes.
Empty—gods, yes.
Sad—more than I knew how to express.
Lonely—even surrounded by people, even held in her arms, the loneliness of Nikki's absence echoes through everything.
"You can feel all of it, right here," she promises. "Where no one can see."
The permission settles into my consciousness like rainfall into drought-cracked earth.
I can feel.
Here.
With her.
In this space she's sanctifying with her presence, with her acceptance, with her love that doesn't demand I be anything other than what I am in this moment.
"It's just you and me, okay?"
Just us.
