I’d come here confused, hurt, and abandoned. Preparing to demand an apology for something that suddenly felt irrelevant.
Instead, she’d turned my world inside out.
My past, my needs—
I’d locked them away the moment she came into my life, sealed them in a box I never intended to open again. But now, with her watching me—really watching me—wonder bright in her eyes instead of disgust, that box began to crack.
Possibilities spilled through the fractures.
Fragile. Undeserved. Terrifying.
Every word I’d given her tonight had been truth.
Truths I thought would destroy what we’d built.
Truths that should have.
And yet… she was still here.
She looked away, dropping her hands into her lap to pick at the chipped polish on her nails. “What would something like that look like…” She trailed off, the words trembling. “For us?”
My mouth went dry.
Us.
This.
Rules, structure, boundaries, gentle correction.
The ways I could steady her. Ground her.
Order instead of chaos.
Release instead of pressure.
I imagined her shoulders unburdened, her laughter unguarded—her peace resting squarely in my hands.
And god, I would take it. Gladly.
Her happiness would be reward enough.
I drew a steady breath, forcing control back into my shaky voice, slipping into the role I thought I’d buried years ago.
“I could help you.” Each word measured. “I’d set a few rules—simple ones—for you to follow.”
Her head snapped toward me. “Rules?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, unnerved by the weight of her stare. “Nothing intense. Just structure. Things that keep you grounded—eating properly, taking time for yourself…” A weak, crooked smile tugged at my mouth. “Maybe even forcing you to see a therapist.”
I tried for humor.
It didn’t land.
“Therapist?” she echoed, suspicion flickering across her face.
I nodded. “I think it would be good for you. You carry a lot. And while I’ll do everything I can to guide you… professionals have training I don’t.”
Her teeth caught her lower lip. “Is that all you’d expect from me?”
