“I’m happy,” I continue. “Genuinely. I’m in a space where I can love both women openly. Proudly and without apology.”
“And specifically,” the therapist presses, “with the understanding that one of them carries fears of being hidden.”
Zaria’s face flashes in my mind. The way she’d stiffened at the word secret. The weight of her past.
“We’ve discussed that,” I say firmly. “At length.”
“And?”
“And I told her she will never be my shadow. Not publicly. Not privately.”
My voice deepens without me meaning it to.
“I am prepared to show up for both women in the ways they require. With action. With consistency. With visibility.”
Mama’s eyes shine.
“This isn’t about claiming,” I add. “It’s about honoring. Zaria’s fear isn’t irrational. It’s earned. My responsibility is to be steady enough that she never questions whether I’m hiding her.”
Dr. Manning studies me for a moment.
“And Lena.”
A small smile pulls at my mouth.
“Lena knows me,” I say quietly. “She’s seen my process. My therapy. My unlearning. She asked me to spend time with Zaria because she trusts me. That’s not something I take lightly.”
Caleb nods slowly. “He’s not bluffing.”
Calla smirks. “He’s annoyingly intentional.”
I roll my eyes but don’t deny it.
The therapist’s tone softens. “No shame?”
“No,” I say again. “The only thing I feel is clarity.”
“And if the world pushes back?”
I think about our father. About the rules he tried to force into our bones.
“Then I push forward,” I answer calmly. “Without becoming him.”
Stillness settles in the room again. The silence feels different this time.
Lighter.
Mama reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“You’re free,” she says softly.
I believe it fully because I feel it within.
Not because I rejected who he was.
But because I refused to inherit what he refused to heal. Sitting in the peppermint-scented room surrounded by the people who survived the same storm I did. I realize breaking cycles of abuse and trauma is messy. It requires strength and determination to be better.
But it is worthwhile work.
