“Yes.” He reaches for my hand. Threads his fingers through mine. “I see you now, Em. Not just what you do. You.”
My throat tightens. I used to beg for that without knowing I was begging. Now it’s given freely.
“And I see you,” I reply.
“Even when I’m annoying?”
“Especially when you’re annoying.”
He laughs softly.
I rest my head on his shoulder. “Do you remember how we used to think sex was the fix?” I murmur.
He snorts. “Yeah.”
“We were trying to use sparks to patch structural issues.”
“That’s very journalism of you.”
“Shut up.”
He squeezes my hand.
“It’s different now,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“Because it’s not about validation.”
“It’s about choice.”
Exactly.
We choose each other now. Not because we’re stuck. Not because of routine. Not because the kids bind us. But because we like each other. Because we respect each other. Because we’ve both stepped up.
“I don’t feel like I have to make myself smaller to keep this steady anymore,” I say quietly.
“You shouldn’t.”
“I know.”
And that knowing feels solid.
Upstairs, Sophie calls out something about a blanket. Ruby coughs. Oscar thuds his head against the wall.
We both freeze. Then laugh. This is the life that almost swallowed us. And now it feels expansive instead.
“I used to be terrified we’d turn into roommates,” I admit.
“Me too.”
“But we didn’t.”
“No.”
“We turned into partners.”
He kisses my temple. “Team us.”
