Page 141 of Scars and Crowns

I watch Sara throw herself onto the grass, laughing when the dog ignores her command for the third time, and something inside me feels unexpectedly calm.

Not fixed.

I don't think I will ever use that word so easily again.

But calmer.

There are still things I don't know how to say and moments when my body reacts before my mind can catch up. But they don't feel quite as enormous anymore. Maybe because I finally told someone. Maybe because that someone didn't look at me differently afterward.

Yuvaan sits down beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush. He doesn't ask what I'm thinking immediately. He watches Sara for a while instead, his mouth curving when she puts both hands on the dog's shoulders and tries to physically convince it to sit.

The dog flops onto its side. Sara bursts into another fit of giggles.

"I think your student is refusing to cooperate," Yuvaan says.

"He's being difficult."

"He's lying down."

"Exactly. Very difficult."

I smile. For a few seconds, neither of us says anything. Then I take a breath. "I've been thinking." His attention shifts to me at once. Not dramatically. He doesn't straighten or interrupt or ask me to explain before I'm ready. He simply turns his head, and suddenly I have all of him.

"I want to do something."

"What?"

I look back at the lawn.

Sara's now attempting to decorate the dog's collar with flowers. "I want to build something for women." Yuvaan doesn't speak. I find myself twisting my fingers together. "Women who have gone through things like I did. Women who don't know where to go afterward. Women who sit in police stations and aren't believed. Women who find out they're pregnant and have no idea what they're supposed to do next. Women who don't have money for lawyers or counseling or even somewhere safe to sleep."

My voice grows quieter. "I keep thinking about that clinic." The memory comes back so clearly that for a moment I can almost smell the antiseptic. "I remember sitting there and looking around at everyone else. People were talking on their phones, filling out forms, waiting for appointments. Everyone seemed to belong to somebody." I swallow. "I didn't." Yuvaan's fingers find mine. "I don't want another woman to sit in a room like that and feel the way I did."

The words come easier after that.

"I want somewhere she can go. Somewhere she can get legal help without having to worry about whether the person who hurt her has a powerful father. Somewhere she can speak to someone who actually knows what they're doing. Counseling. Medical support. Temporary accommodation if she needs it. Someone who can explain her options without making decisions for her."

I glance at him. "I don't want it to be charity in the way people usually think about charity. I want it to be practical. I want women to leave with something in their hands besides a phone number and a promise that someone will call them back."

His expression has gone very still. "I'll help." The answer comes so quickly that I almost laugh.

"I knew you would."

"Then you also know I mean it."

"I do."

He turns my hand over, his thumb brushing slowly across my palm. "The foundation can support the initial funding. We already have legal contacts, medical partnerships, and people who know how to build these things properly. We can bring them in."

I smile faintly. "See, this is exactly why I didn't want to tell you first."

His eyebrow lifts. "Why?"

"Because I say, 'I have an idea,' and five minutes later you're already building the infrastructure."

"I can restrain myself." I look at him. He looks back. Neither of us believes that. I laugh softly. "But that's not the only thing." His expression changes again.

He waits.