"You can tell me," I encouraged.
"Sometimes I... I color in coloring books," she admitted in a whisper so quiet, I barely caught it. "And I have clothes hidden at home that no one ever sees."
My heart swelled with tenderness for this brave, beautiful woman who had denied herself this basic comfort for so long.
"Thank you for trusting me with that," I said softly. "There's nothing wrong with any of those things, Emily. Nothing at all."
She looked up at me, radiating vulnerability. "But what about my work? The kids who need me? I can't just... I can't be both."
"Why not?" I challenged gently. "Do you think being a Little somehow makes you less capable of doing your job? Does it make you care less about those children?"
"No, but—"
"No buts," I interrupted. "Many of the strongest people I know have aspects of their personalities that they only show to those they trust most. It doesn't make them any less effective in their professional lives."
Emily considered this, absently stroking the bear's ear. "I wouldn't know how," she finally admitted. "How to... let go. How to be that person I keep hidden."
I shifted closer, close enough that our knees almost touched. "It's not something you have to figure out all at once. It's a journey, one step at a time, with someone who cares for you guiding the way, and being in a safe space."
Emily hugged the bear tighter. "Did you... did you make this whole room yourself?"
"I did," I admitted. "Over the course of a year or so. I'd find something at a store that caught my eye—a stuffed animal, a book, a blanket—and bring it home. Eventually, I realized I was creating a space for someone I hadn't met yet."
"That's..." she trailed off, looking around the room with new eyes. "That's really sweet."
"It gave me hope," I said simply. "That someday I'd find the right person to share it with."
Her gaze returned to mine, searching. "And do you still think that? That you'll find that person?"
The question hung between us, heavy with meaning. My heart pounded as I considered my answer.
"I think I might have," I said softly. "But she's been through a lot, and the timing isn't ideal. So, I'm willing to be patient."
Emily's cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head, but not before I caught the small smile that curved her lips. She stroked the bear's ear, seemingly lost in thought.
"Barnaby," she said suddenly.
"Hmm?"
"His name. It's Barnaby." She looked up at me through her lashes. "If that's okay."
"It's perfect," I assured her, warmth spreading through my chest. "He's been waiting a long time for someone to name him."
Emily nodded solemnly, as if accepting a great responsibility. Then, without warning, she yawned widely, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"You're tired," I observed. "I don't think you've had proper rest for a long time, so you're playing catch-up."
She hesitated, looking around the room again. Her eyes lingered on the bed with its canopy and colorful sheets.
"Would you like to nap here?" I asked gently. "Just for a little while?"
She bit her lip, clearly torn. "I shouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because..." she struggled to find the words. "Because once I let myself have this, I don't know if I can go back to pretending I don't want it."
