“Let me ask you something. When you hold back from each other, does it honor Lena?”
Zaria’s eyes soften. “No.”
“Or does it stall the love she encouraged?”
With each inquiry from Dr. Manning, we realizing we’re sabotaging the love Lena wanted for us.
I rub the back of my neck. “She told us not to let her death be in vain.”
“Then don’t,” Dr. Manning replies simply.
Zaria shifts closer to me without realizing it and I pull her close to me not able to handle her feeling so far from even as she sits next to me.
“How do we move forward?” she asks.
Dr. Manning smiles faintly. “You work on your intimacy without guilt involved.”
“How?” I ask.
“Start small. Scheduled connection that isn’t about sex. Touch without expectation. Date nights where you talk about Lena openly instead of avoiding her name.”
Zaria nods slowly.
“And when it comes to physical intimacy,” Dr. Manning continues, “remove performance. No pressure to recreate what you had before. Focus on curiosity. On what this version of your relationship feels like.”
I glance at Zaria.
“We haven’t been curious,” I admit. “We’ve been guarded.”
“Guarded is grief’s armor,” Dr. Manning says. “But armor doesn’t allow closeness.”
Zaria’s fingers brush mine this time. Light. Tentative.
“And therapy,” Dr. Manning adds firmly. “Weekly. Together for now. Separately if needed. You don’t white-knuckle your way through love after loss.”
I huff softly. “You’re not letting us off easy.”
She smiles. “No one ever built a healthy relationship by avoiding discomfort.”
Zaria looks at me then, really looks at me.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she says quietly.
“You’re not going to,” I answer immediately.
Dr. Manning nods once.
“Then stop grieving separately,” she says. “Mourn her together. Love each other purposefully and understand that growing closer now doesn’t diminish what you had. It proves it mattered.”
The room feels different. The grief is still heavy but less suffocating. Zaria’s hand settles fully into mine this time. After we leave Dr. Manning’s office, I’m more hopeful about ourfuture. I don’t feel like the love of my life is slipping through my hands again. It feels like we can heal and be whole with time and patience.
We don’t say much when we leave Dr. Manning’s office. The energy between us is different this time. The silence isn’t defensive. It’s thoughtful. Zaria’s hand stays in mine all the way to the car and I don’t let go.
Olive & Oak is dark when we pull up. Not closed for the night dark. Intentionally dark.
Zaria frowns slightly. “It’s Wednesday. Why is it?—”
Before she can finish, the doors open. Knox steps out with that signature half-grin.
