“Did you sleep?” he asks.
I nod, and I can feel a smile slip free. “Yeah. Better than I expected.”
Something in his expression eases, brief but unmistakable. Like he’s been holding tension he didn’t realize he was carrying.
“Good.”
He hands me a mug without asking how I take it, and it’s exactly right.
I blink. “Thank you.”
He nods like it’s nothing, but I see the way his attention sharpens, like he’s cataloging the moment. We drink in quiet for a while. But the silence isn’t empty. It’s… careful. Neither of us wants to startle it. Like we are both taking this time to watch each other.
“I was hoping,” I say eventually, “if I have time today… I’d like to see my mom.”
“Of course,” he says immediately. “I’ll drive.”
He says it with so much confidence, no hesitation, no qualifiers.
The morning unfolds slowly, after that.
It feels the opposite of how we got here. Nothing is planned, no moment is rushed. Like we are both happy just being in each other's company.
It’snice.
He shows me the penthouse properly this time, not like a transaction but like he’s welcoming me home.
The library stops me cold. In the morning light, it is stunning with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Dark wood. A ladder on rails. Chairs arranged for actual reading, not aesthetic symmetry. I trail my fingers along spines, startled to recognize titles. History. Philosophy. Fiction that isn’t meant to impress anyone.
“You read,” I murmur.
He levels me with a smile that takes my breath away, “Yes.”
I have to look away, because I am not sure how to handle this, Julian. “You don’t advertise it.”
He shrugs. “It’s something that is just for me.”
It tells me everything.
The room beside his office makes my throat tighten.
“This can be yours,” he says. “Paint it. Rearrange it. Or don’t use it at all.”
He says it like it doesn’t matter, but it does. It matters.
I stand there imagining a desk that’s mine. A space that doesn’t vanish if circumstances change.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He watches me like that matters.
Outside the treatment facility, someone nearly bumps into me on the sidewalk.
Julian’s hand slides across to my back instinctively, pulling me at the hip into his side. It’s protective and familiar.
It sends a shiver through me, but I don't pull away. I lean in and let him guide me to Mom’s room.
Inside, Mom is awake.
