“Go have fun, brave girl,” he'd murmured against my temple. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He can’t be here for the actual celebration, but honestly, having him with me for the HR meeting was the real prize. The fear I felt before the meeting has now been overwritten by a profound sense of relief and a giddy awareness of my own courage.
My eyes scan the familiar space. Flick, Hannah, Alexis, and Devin are already seated at one of the bigger tables near the window, their faces instantly brightening when they see me.
“There she is!” Flick calls out, waving a hand wildly. Her fingers are always stained faintly purple or indigo from the natural dyes she uses for her yarn.
I settle into the remaining chair and Hannah immediately shoves a dense, buttery-looking piece of sourdough that smells like cinnamon in front of me. “Eat this. You need fuel after slaying dragons.”
“Slaying bad bosses and mean coworkers, at least,” I chuckle, grabbing the bread. The first bite is perfection.
“Tell us everything,” Alexis demands, leaning forward, her eyes bright with a mixture of concern and excitement.
I give them the highlights: the reporting of Trevor’s harassment, his previous firing for being too lax, Mr. Austin’s suspicion that he’s now overcompensating, and the relief of disclosing my relationship with Zachary.
“And the Lupus,” I finish quietly, swirling the condensation on my water glass. “That was the hardest part, admitting it out loud in a professional context. But Mr. Austin was actually... okay. He promised ADA protection.”
Flick reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Maya, that is huge. That was so brave. You stood up for yourself, for your students, and for your health. You’re incredible.”
All of my friends nod their heads in agreement.
“And then there's Dave,” I sigh, shaking my head. I recount the confrontation at his house—the resentment, the sabotage, the confession.
“Petty, pathetic, and predictable,” Devin says, taking a sharp sip of her French press coffee. “He saw you and Zachary building something great together, and it threatened his years of coasting.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “He didn't just resent Zachary’s newness; he resentedmyinfluence, my creativity being the thing that made the science department exciting again. He blamed me.”
The conversation shifts, easing into a more casual flow, and the tension from the morning is gone completely. We move on to discussing the upcoming town Christmas festival.
“Are you ready for the rush, Flick?” Hannah asks, referring to the inevitable holiday shoppers they’ll both encounter.
Flick beams. “My booth is secured, and I’ve dyed so much merino wool, I think I could clothe the entire state of New Hampshire. I’ve got all my new sparkle yarns ready to go.”
I watch my friends discussing the Christmas festival and their holiday plans and I feel such a rush of gratitude, a deep, solid joy that has nothing to do with the events of the morning. I have my people.
And I have Zachary.
My heart gives a familiar, happy thump at the thought of him. I glance at my wrist, wishing the school day would speed up. He’ll be home around four thirty. We’ll play with Frida and cook dinner together, and afterwards, when the apartment is quiet and warm, I’m going to surprise him.
The anxiety about Trevor and Dave is real, but it’s small compared to the certainty that I want to spend every single morning and night with Zachary.
I pull out my phone and look at the most recent picture: Zachary on the floor, tangled up in a throw blanket, trying to read a textbook while Frida is curled up on his chest. Frida is absolutely and completely smitten with him. They’re a package deal now.We’rea package deal.
I know what I have to do. I’ll thank him enthusiastically for coming with me to HR, and then I’ll take a deep breath and ask the question.
“I love you. I love going to sleep with you and waking up with you. And Frida adores you. So... will you move in with us?”
It feels right. It feels solid. It feels like the beginning of everything good, regardless of what happens with Trevor and Dave.
I smile, picking up my coffee cup, feeling happy, brave, and ready for my future.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Maya
As usual, the rheumatology ward's waiting room has the familiar smell of antiseptic and coffee, but today, it’s also tinged with the sweet, bright scent of fresh flowers. Balloons the color of lupus awareness—purple and silver—bob gently near the entrance, reflecting the overhead lights. I smooth down my dress, a vibrant floral print that feels deliberately cheerful, a stark contrast to the usual muted tones of hospital visits.
Beside me, my mom radiates an energy that could power a small city. She’s in her element, a whirlwind of confident smiles and focused conversation. This is her dream, too, this art exhibit. This space, usually synonymous with fear and waiting, is transforming before my eyes.
