"I know, baby. I got you. Just let go."
He chokes on a sound, jerks in my hand, his back arching hard beneath me. He buries his face in my neck and shatters in my arms. Right between us. Whimpering my name.
The second I feel him come undone, the second I hear his voice crack, I bury myself deep and come so hard I see stars.
My hand on his chest. My mouth on his shoulder. Whispering his name. I stay there. Inside him. Wrapped around him, afraid to move. Because if I do, this ends.
I've never loved anyone like this. Not even close. The kind of love that makes you want to give up your name just to take theirs. The kind of love that makes a future feel less like a dream and more like a fight worth bleeding for.
He shifts a little, just enough for our noses to touch. Our legs are still tangled, my hips still pressed deep into his. We click like two puzzle pieces.
"You okay?"
I nod against his skin. "Yeah," I say. "I just don't wanna let go yet." He exhales like he understands. So I stay.
Holding him, and loving him.
Saying everything without saying a word. Because if this is the last time… he needs to know.
He's it for me.
45) No Gio
Rava
I zip the suitcase shut slowly.
Mom is sitting on the edge of my bed. "Are you sure there's no program here, in Italy?" she says with a small voice. "Silvia's mom became a teacher just a few years ago! She didn't go all the way to Canada…"
It hurts. I hate that nobody really gets it. They all act like this was some impulsive dramatic move, like I woke up one day and went, "Hm, what if I just disappear to Canada for vibes."
Like I didn't sit there with five different tabs open, comparing salaries and hiring rates and how long it takes toactuallyget a stable job in a school. Didn't talk to advisors, read forums, watch videos of people explaining the process.
I didn't just spin a globe and land here?! They think I chose distance over love and family. What they don't see is the math behind it. The ugly, boring, adult shit. Canada counts more.
This specific degree counts more.
The fact that if I stay in Canada, do my hours, get my license, I can have a job in an actual classroom in a few years. Maybe even right away. Not in twenty years.
Not "maybe when I'm forty if the system decides I exist." If I chose to stay here, I'd be sending CVs and praying, watching my life stuck on pause, doing something that has nothing to do with what I studied, while I "wait my turn."
Like a number in a deli queue. Next! Not you. Next! Still not you. And they act offended because I didn't want that.
Like, what do they think? That I enjoy being on the other side of the world, in some cold city where no one knows how to spell my name and everything closes too early and the weather wants me dead??
They think if I really wanted, I could've stayed.
You know, "Find a master's program here, look around, there must be something."
Yeah. There are things. And I looked.
But be for real, how many people have you seen stuck in the same town, overqualified, underpaid, waiting for an opening that never comes?
Substitute teacher here, temp contract there. No stability. No guarantee. Just a "Maybe next year." I don't want "maybe" when I'm thirty-five.
So Canada is clearer.
You do this program, you pass this exam, you get this license, you apply. Is it perfect? No. Is it easy? God, no. But at least there's a line you can actually follow.
