Time slips by in quiet routines that turn into our normal. The days are soft, happy. It makes me forget all the other things happening around us.


    Therapy gets easier, and then harder. It''s like a roller coaster, depending on what new trauma Cami wants to crack open in our sessions. I settle for going to her once a week and I never miss it, never cancel it.


    I find myself waking up in Zaid''s bed more often than not. Listening to him


    breathe, to the beat of his heart, is the best way to ward off the nightmares, and to


    make sure I sleep


    enough to function.


    The mornings are still. I usually go into the art room first thing and open the curtains wide to let the light spill into the room. I never stop being amazed at the sight. I never stop feeling emotional when I step inside and feel loved for being known so well.


    I never stop thanking him for it.


    Actually, I forced him to move his desk in herest week. He fought me for a full day until I physically dragged hisptop and wires in here and dared him to stop


    me.


    He usually sits across from me while I paint, headphones on, lost in lines of code or whatever it is that makes him mutter under his breath and rake his fingers through his


    hair. Sometimes we don''t speak for hours, just exist in the same space.


    And that''s enough.


    We haven''t had sex again.


    It''s not some decision we made or boundary we set, it''s just something unspoken. Right now, we''re focused. On ourselves. On healing. But still, there are nights when I climb into his bed without a word, and he opens his arms like he was waiting for me.


    And I sleep better than I ever have,


    Today, after breakfast, we went shopping.


    Elena came with us, as she insisted on buying me new clothes for our trip. I don''t have the heart to tell her that I haven''t made up my mind yet. Zaid is insisting I go, so I


    haven''t really told him about my doubts either.


    I don''t want to leave him.


    Zaid follows us around the stores and pretends to care about suitcase sizes but then gets very serious about which ones have the mostpartments. I try not tough.


    Later, we go out for dinner, just the two of us. A little ce with string lights on the patio


    and candles on the table.


    I twirl my fork in my pasta and nce at him over the rim of my ss. "How''s school


    been? And work?"


    Zaid leans back in his chair and sighs. "I''m ready to be done with senior year, I''m sure you are, too. Just a few more weeks of sses, but it feels like forever."


    "Yeah, but I bet it''s worst for you. You would''ve been donest year. But you''re almost there," I smile.


    "Yeah.” He shrugs, pushing food around on his te. "And work, well, I''m tired of thepany I''m with. I don''t know, it''s not bad, I''m just not growing there anymore. I''ve been thinking about looking for something new."


    I smile. "Why don''t you just start your own?"


    He looks up sharply, surprised. “My ownpany?"


    "Why not? You could do something incredible. You''re smart and-"


    I catch him looking at me with a smile growing on his face. "I''m smart?"


    I chew on my lip so that I don''tugh and nod.


    He lets out a breath, serious once again. "You think so?"


    I nod, meaning every word. "Completely."


    We fall quiet again. I take a sip of my water and trace the edge of my te with


    my fingertip. "Aiden''sing in a few weeks," I say casually, watching him closely.


    Zaid nces up and nods, not missing a beat. "I know. I''m happy. I''ve missed him."


    There''s something tight in my chest. I swallow around it. "I''ve been meaning to ask you, how do you feel about me and Aiden?"


    His fork slips out of his hand and tters onto the te. He doesn''t flinch, just looks at me for a long moment, eyes calm and steady. "Are you asking if I''m okay with it?"


    I nod slowly, nervous. "I don''t feel the way I felt about Jake. I don''t feel like I need to distance myself. It might change when I see Aiden, but that''s not how I feel now."


    Zaid reaches across the table and takes my hand. His thumb brushes across my knuckles as he studies my face, like he''s memorizing every twitch and blink.


    "Love," he says softly, "you haveplete autonomy. Always. I''m not here to sway you or guilt you or make you feel like you owe me anything. Your rtionships are yours. And I want you to live them out, not walk on eggshells for me. I haven''t changed how I feel."


    Something stings behind my eyes, and I squeeze his hand. "But you didn''t like me being with Jake. I don''t want this to separate us further."


    He holds my gaze, firm and quiet. "That was different."


    A tear slips free before I can catch it. Iugh softly, shaking my head. "Thank you."


    Zaid squeezes my hand back, and that smile of his spreads across his face. "You don''t have to thank me. I love you. That''s it. That''s all that matters."


    My heart leaps in my chest, but it''s still saddled with guilt. I look away, trying to hide the confusion bubbling inside me.


    We finish dinner quietly and head home. That night, I don''t slip into his head, but I also don''t sleep at all.