He exhales slowly. “You don’t have to say more. I can hear it in your voice.”
“I can’t,” I admit.
“I figured.” He glances at me sideways. “But I’m glad she’s safe. And I’m glad you are too.”
Something tight loosens in my chest.
“Since when did you get so serious?” I ask, blinking hard.
He grins, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Since you nearly broke my heart by not coming back.”
I laugh—real and shaky—and for the first time in days it doesn’t hurt.
Jamie watches me for a beat, head tilting slightly, eyes sharp beneath the humour. He always sees more than he lets on.
“Well,” he says slowly, dragging the word out as he leans back on his hands, “that laugh sounded different.”
“Different how?” I ask, wary.
“Like you’re not just surviving anymore.” His mouth curves. “Like you’ve… landed.”
I don’t answer straight away. I trace my thumb along the edge of my sketchbook, feeling the worn paper beneath my skin.
Jamie hums, then fixes me with a knowing look.
“Now tell me, darling,” he drawls, cocking an eyebrow, “has that man of yours finally learned what devotion means, or do I need to join you on that flight tomorrow and scare him into emotional competence?”
I snort. “You would absolutely do that.”
“Glad you know me.”
I hesitate, then exhale. “He didn’t just learn it,” I say quietly. “He chose it. Over and over again. Even when it was messy. Even when it hurt.”
Jamie’s expression softens, just a fraction. “Ah,” he murmurs. “He’s one of the good ones then.”
“He wasn’t always,” I admit. “He let fear decide for him. We stayed quiet, stayed careful, stayed… small. I didn’t realise how much it was holding us back, until now.”
“And now?”
“Now,” I say, meeting his gaze, “I do.”
Jamie nods, satisfied. “Then I’ll cancel my dramatic intervention tour.”
I smile, warmth blooming in my chest. “Thank you.”
“But,” he adds, pointing a finger at me, “if he ever makes you feel small again—”
“He won’t.”
His eyebrow lifts. “You’re sure.”
“I am,” I say, and the certainty in my voice surprises even me. “Because I won’t let him. Or anyone.”
Jamie beams. “God, I love this version of you.”
I laugh again, softer this time, steadier. “She’s still learning.”
“Aren’t we all?” He rises to his feet and offers me a hand. “Come on, future powerhouse. Let’s finish packing. London’s waiting and she’s got no idea what’s about to hit her.”
