The kind of stillness that felt earned. Like a sigh after holding your breath too long.
I made tea, not because I wanted it, but because the ritual helped. Boil. Steep. Sip. It was something to do with my hands while my heart tried to figure out where it stood.
Willa wandered in, barefoot and bleary-eyed, wearing one of Iris’s oversized sweatshirts.
“You’re up early,” I said.
She shrugged. “Didn’t sleep well. Kept thinking about those hands I drew.” She leaned against the counter. “Do you ever get scared that we’re only holding on because we’re afraid of what happens if we don’t?”
I stirred my tea. “That’s kind of how holding on works.”
She smiled a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You know what’s weird? I feel closer to both of you now than I ever have. And it still feels like any second it could all slip.”
I handed her a mug. “It won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. But I’m choosing to stay.”
She looked at me then—really looked. And for once, she didn’t deflect. Just nodded and took a sip.
Later that afternoon,I found June sitting on the back steps with a book in her lap and Lily curled against her side.
It was such a quiet moment, so full of everything I usually missed.
I sat beside them.
June closed the book but didn’t move.
“She asked me earlier if we were going to stay forever,” she said, nodding toward Lily.
I didn’t say anything.
“She didn’t mean the house. She meantthis.Us. Together.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said I hope so.”
The wind shifted. Lily slept on.
“She’s the reason I stayed,” June whispered. “But you’re the reason I’m starting to think I can stay for myself.”
That undid me a little.
In the best way.
That night,after everyone had gone to bed, I sat on the porch with a pen and a blank notebook. No labels. No plan.
I didn’t try to make a list of tasks. Instead, I made a list of truths.
I don’t want to go back to the life I had.
I don’t know what comes next.
I miss the version of me who used to want more.
I think I’m still in here. Somewhere.
