Caleb had a family. A life. People who depended on him. If I told him, would he start watching over his shoulder, too? Would he wonder if being with me meant putting a target on all of them?
The thought made my chest ache. I didn’t want to be something he had to survive. And yet, keeping this from him felt like a betrayal of its own.
He had been gentle with my scars—both the ones he could see and the ones he couldn’t. He had stood beside me without asking for explanations I wasn’t ready to give. If anyone had earned the truth, it was him. But truth had consequences, and once spoken, I couldn’t pull it back.
One afternoon, I studied his face, the quiet strength in it, the steadiness that made me feel safe even when my world was unravelling.I wondered if this was the moment everything shifted—if this was where I either trusted him fully or lost him entirely.
I drew in a slow breath, feeling the weight of the words pressing against my ribs.
“Caleb,” I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt, “I need to tell you something.”
37
CALEB
Icould feel it even before Nyah spoke—the way her shoulders tightened, the hesitation in her breath. She was carrying a truth she had buried carefully, not because she didn’t trust me—but because she was afraid of what loving me might cost us both.
This wasn’t just a confession waiting to happen; it was a reckoning.
But I knew one thing for certain: nothing between us would remain untouched.
“I don’t think your mother is too fond of me,” she said with a quiet sigh. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but?—”
I felt a rush of relief settle in, solid and reassuring. This was normal. Manageable. The kind of thing people joked about, not something that changed anything. Time would smooth over their relationship.
I frowned gently, already certain I had the answer. “She just doesn’t know you as I do,” I said. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”
Nyah nodded.
“She’ll fall in love with you once she gets to know you, I promise.” I kissed the tip of her nose, meaning every word. “I know she’s a bit overprotective when it comes to me, but she will come around eventually. Trust me on that.”
She smiled, but there was something fragile behind it, like glass stretched thin.
Our relationship didn’t just grow—it unfolded, quietly and beautifully, as if it had been waiting for the right moment to exist. We were in love in the easiest way.
With Lucas, we became children again—chasing laughter, inventing games, building small worlds out of ordinary afternoons.
With each other, we laughed freely, teased without fear, and touched with a familiarity that felt earned.
When we made love, it was like “fallen stars who finally found their place next to each other in a lovely constellation where they sparkled in the heavens forever,”just as Amy Tan said—an ending to all the drifting I’d done before her, a quiet certainty that I had arrived where I was always meant to be.
She didn’t disrupt my life; she made a home in it, seamless and sure, and every day felt like a small miracle I never stopped noticing.
Nyah hadn’t saidI love youyet. I knew she felt it. I knew it as surely as I knew my own heartbeat. Maybe she was waiting—carefully, deliberately—for the right moment.
June arrived carrying two birthdays,but Lucas’s came first, and it took over everything.
The function room in her building was transformed—bright streamers along the walls, balloons bobbing at every corner, a long table crowded with cake, snacks, and gifts wrapped in colourful paper. The room buzzed with the sweetness of frosting, the squeal of children, and the thud of running feet.
Lucas was everywhere at once, flushed with excitement, laughing so hard he could barely stay still, his joy spilling out of him in a way that felt contagious.
I watched him open his presents, his eyes going wide at every new surprise, but I found myself watching Nyah even more. She remained nearby without hovering, smiling, watchful, completely tuned in to her son. There was an easysoftness in her that day.
Seeing her give him that kind of happiness, that kind of safety, made something settle deep inside me. It felt less like witnessing a party and more like being allowed into a moment that mattered.
On June 15th,the night before my thirtieth birthday, I stayed over at Nyah’s apartment.
The night felt hushed and intimate, like it was holding its breath for something meaningful. At midnight, Lucas wished me first. He wrapped his arms around my neck, pressed a loud kiss to my cheek, and handed me a crooked, handmade card and a chocolate bar he’d clearly been guarding all evening.
