She sits up fully now, drawing one knee to her chest. The warmth that settled between us thins.
“I was wondering,” she says. “You don’t really talk about your family.”
I lean back against the couch, exhaling through my nose.
“They’re … complicated,” I say.
She nods. “I get that.”
There’s a pause.
“Do you ever think about talking to them?” she asks carefully. “About everything?”
My jaw tightens before I can stop it.
“I talk about things,” I say.
She tilts her head. “You talk about things with me. That’sdifferent.”
I don’t respond right away because she’s right. And because I don’t want to open that door, not today, not when the quiet feels so fragile.
“I’m not ready for that,” I say finally.
She watches my face closely. “I wasn’t suggesting you do it now.”
“I know,” I say again, a little clipped. “I just … don’t want to.”
Something shifts in her expression, not hurt or fear, but understanding.
“Okay,” she says simply.
She reaches for her mug, takes a sip, then sets it back down, untouched. She doesn’t press. Doesn’t lecture. Doesn’t tell me what healing is supposed to look like.
And somehow, that makes the knot in my chest tighten instead of loosen because she gave me space. And I reacted like she didn’t.
Melissa shifts beside me, drawing her legs under her again, but she doesn’t retreat. She doesn’t close herself off. She gives the moment some much-needed air, like she’s letting it breathe instead of forcing it to behave.
The television murmurs on, some laugh track drifting through the room, wildly out of place.
I stare straight ahead, jaw tight.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say finally.
She turns her head toward me. “I didn’t think I did.”
There’s no challenge in her voice. No edge. Just honesty.
I swallow.
“I get defensive about them,” I admit. “I don’t always realize it until it’s already happening.”
Her gaze softens, but she doesn’t move closer. She lets me have the space I carved out, even though I didn’t ask for it delicately.
“I wasn’t trying to push you,” she says. “Or tell you what you should do.”
“I know,” I say again. The word feels heavier this time. Less automatic.
She studies me for a moment. “I was curious. About you.”
