“Yes,” Noah says. “She did.”
I stare at the blank wall above the sink, unable to process how something that sounds like paperwork can feel like a door unlocking.
Hope is supposed to be soft.
This is sharp. Startling. Terrifying.
Noah keeps talking, voice professional but not unkind. “She didn’t say much. Only that she wanted the clause removed—and that we should make sure you were notified immediately.”
I close my eyes.
The balcony flashes behind my lids. Her breath hitching. Her fingers twisting into my shirt. The way she looked at me like she was deciding something and praying I wouldn’t hurt her.
She’s reaching out. Not with a message. Not with a speech. With action.
My throat tightens.
She doesn’t want out.
And suddenly the one thing I thought was gone—gone because I ran, because I panicked, because I couldn’t stand the idea of being left—
is standing right in front of me again.
Waiting.
After the call ends, I stay where I am.
The apartment is still. Quiet in a way that presses in.
My heart keeps beating too fast, like it hasn’t figured out the danger is over.
Or maybe it hasn’t.
The memory comes without warning.
The players’ lot.
Cameras everywhere. Voices stacked on top of each other. Accusations hurled like they were entitled to answers. I remember standing there, jaw locked, shoulders squared, letting it wash over me the way I always do.
Then she stepped into it.
Lila. Sunglasses too big. No entourage. No hesitation. Just her, moving straight through the chaos until she was beside me.
I’d looked at her afterward and said, low and sharp, “You didn’t have to jump in that fast.”
She’d paused. Thought about it.
Then she’d said, quietly, almost like she was surprised by her own honesty, “It wasn’t fast. You looked alone.”
I hadn’t known what to do with that.
I remember brushing it off. Letting the moment pass. Telling myself it didn’t mean anything. That she was just doing her part. That it was all situational.
Safer that way.
But standing here now, the words hit differently.
She hadn’t known me then. Not really. She didn’t owe me anything.
