Now, instead of cafeteria bleach and fluorescent misery, my days smelled like sea salt, sunscreen and were filled with a kind of freedom I’d never known before.
It took two months for my student visa to be approved, and even less time for Gran to receive a spectacular offer for her little old house. It turned out Gran had greatly downplayed just how much the developers wanted the plot of land on which the house was built.
She signed the paperwork before our visas were even approved, claiming she wasmanifesting. I’d blame any of the gray hairs that would inevitably appear on my head sooner rather than later on this woman.
Kai had really put his money where his mouth was, supporting me every step of the way. He helped me fill out all kinds of forms until the ass crack of dawn after I got home from work, helped me figure out which university and course to apply for, and set up a financing plan for me.
Even though Gran had more money than she could possibly spend — especially since she was going to die soon, as she still kept on insisting — money wasn’t technically an issue anymore. Yet it still went against all my principles to just let her pay my way.
And Kai … he knew me well enough to realize I could never live with myself if I accepted, so he pored over a cost plan for days and calculated realistic instalments to set up a repayment plan.
My eyes stung suspiciously when he presented the whole plan to me, beaming with pride. This man lovedme and cared deeply about my wishes, working tirelessly to honor them.
His actions spoke volumes, and he couldn’t have been clearer if he tried.
Kai had shown up for me, over and over again — and not just him. His entire family accepted us into their fold from the outset, whether it was picking us up at the airport, helping me with the paperwork for the partner visa, or keeping an eye on Gran when I couldn’t.
Having such an extensive support system was something new for me, and at times I was still hesitant to bother them or accept their help. As the weeks turned into months, however, they’d proven they weren’t going anywhere.
Funny how you sometimes find what you weren’t looking for in the last place you’d expect.
I sipped my coffee on our tiny balcony, watching surfers wobble toward the waves like newborn deer. My occupational therapy textbooks were spread across the café table, their pages lifting in the ocean breeze.
I wasn’t just studying because I had to anymore; I was studying because I wanted to. It turned out when given the chance to actually pick something I was interested in, it wasn’t all that hard.
Understanding how people rebuilt their bodies and their lives made something in my chest glow.
The sliding door rattled behind me.
Kai emerged, his hair still damp from the shower, shirt casually draped over his shoulder, shorts slung low on his hips. Fat droplets of water dripped from his dark locks onto the wooden planks.
“Hey, Love,” he rasped, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “Lectures went alright?”
“Probably better than practice went for you.” I eyed the fresh bruises forming like constellations along his forearms.
He glanced down, lifted one shoulder. “Occupational hazard.”
“You’re the hazard,” I muttered, taking another sip of coffee.
Kai grinned in his usual bright, carefree way — a little goofy, but in the most endearing way — and I couldn’t help but smile back.
Every day with him felt like proof love didn’t have to be a struggle. It could be light, consistent, something holding me up instead of dragging me down.
Sure, we were dramatic and a little unhinged, but we were also unbreakable. It was the kind of steadiness rooted in choosing each other on the best days and the worst ones.
As I reached for my bag, a panicked shriek came from outside.
“What are you doing?! Janet! Stop! Turn this thing back around!”
Kai's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
I closed my eyes.
“Lord … grant me strength.”
We thundered down the stairs and out into the sunlit street, just in time to see Gran tearing down the cul-de-sac on a bright-pink mobility scooter. Two elderly women clung to the back like they were auditioning for a geriatric remake ofMad Max.
“Go, Janet, go!” one shrieked.
