Untitled

she glanced out the bay window to the other side of her. she could see the forest and the wavering silhouette of a deer, and for a moment she understood it. she and the deer were the same in that they were always standing off at the border of the pavement, both of them asking the same question: what comes next? what happens if i cross? i step to the middle. i turn, and there is light.

paige had gotten up early, most likely in the kitchen or out at the gym. this meant azzi had time to build her fortress. her wife was one of the most beloved things in her life, and in being so, azzi tried her hardest to avoid subjecting her to this version of herself.

but paige noticed patterns; paige was good at patterns. in fact, paige had been the one to urge azzi a year ago to begin tracking so that they could go to the gynecologist. you shouldn’t be in this much pain, she had whispered into azzi’s temple. i was raised catholic, azzi had wanted to whisper back, i know how to suffer—but her body had been lead that day, and so instead she had fallen asleep.

paige was tuned into most things, but above all, she was tuned in to azzi. but here she was unreachable. this wasn’t something to film-study and fix. this was only azzi at war with herself, and it was private, cellular, and deeply humiliating. this illness that infested her bloodstream, that had no visible wound to press.

it was always the same: two weeks before her period, it would start.

azzi would wake up with a strange tenderness in her chest, like she'd swallowed a blade in her sleep and her body had, against all wisdom, begun to heal around it. she’d look at paige and feel a course of love so large that it terrified her, and then—almost instantly—feel the fear behind the love: the knowledge that love was a spirit with the possibility of ruin, the knowledge of love as the rain and azzi as the earth that drowned beneath it.

she’d feel too aware of herself, far too aware of the space she took up. everything grated: her voice sounded when she asked for something, paige's face in the half-second before she answered, sunlight, moonlight, the bedsheets. it was as if her brain had developed a second language overnight, one that translated everything—every gesture, every pause, every nothing—into threat.

it was all against her: the world, her wife, even the bedsheets, abrasive, even a bystander in the grocery store parking lot who had done nothing more than exist near her.

paige could say hey, baby, how are you? and azzi would hear you’re utterly exhausting.

paige could ask you need anything? and azzi would only hear here we go again.

paige could hold her jaw and say look at me, i love you and azzi would only hear don’t make me regret it.

she hated it most then, when she could tell it wasn't real. when she knew she was misreading paige and still unable to stop, like watching herself cross a street against the light and being powerless to call herself back. she normally loved it when paige held her face and said look at me. look at me, i love you.

that was the true sickness of it: clarity without control. she wanted them back, them both.

she managed a few more minutes, lay there staring at the ceiling until the bedroom door opened and paige entered, bright movements around the bedroom, humming while she pulled clothes from the closet with her normal boat of casual confidence. azzi wanted to scream at her, to snap about her lack of consideration, but she got a hand around her mouth before she could and briefly felt like a child again, looking at the neighbor’s dog with its snout muzzled. she thought a lot of the mouth - the parts of it, of its crush against another. the way it opened. the way it could close.

it was a soft, dangerous trap, and she only opened wider.

azzi despised the way she existed to the point of discomfort. she loathed the thought of passing this down to a daughter: her personhood, so heavy that for fourteen days—sometimes longer—she struggled to begin the day and get out of bed. she was often an animal then, curled on her stomach and restless in sleep. her mind was never quiet. everything that was a drop of water became a pool, even if there was nowhere further to go. every small thing was asked to be a catastrophe, and some part of her kept agreeing.

azzi always felt on the edge of flight, bones straining against the skin as if all it would take was for someone to blow on her to prompt her free. she was not sure if it was always worth it to go through life this way. it was not something she could connect rules to. it was not something that she could ease because to restrain it was to lose herself, to lose the sensitivity that also made her the way she was the other fourteen days—the good fourteen, when she loved paige with a completeness that almost frightened her.

how could she do that to someone she loved?

paige came out of the bathroom with her hair still damp, face fresh, skin gleaming wet and aggressively clean. she had a grey cotton towel wrapped around her, but let it drop as azzi reached a hand out toward her, palm up, fingers uncurled. she leaned over azzi's prone form, blonde hair gone dark with water, and azzi could smell the root of her and her soap before it was masked by cologne: peach, chantilly cream, honeydew, bigarade, jasmine, a ginger note.

“hey, baby,” paige murmured.

azzi watched her with an unreadable expression, slowly losing herself to paige’s gaze, slipping into the blue. paige touched the side of her waist with two fingers, the tips soft in their touch.

“you still down for tonight?”

azzi blinked slowly, then carefully raised herself upward, hand settled in the middle of paige’s back to keep her steady. she slid that same hand up to the nape of her neck, then further into the thick of her damp hair, free hand coming to loiter on paige’s waist as she dragged all 6’0 of her wife into her lap. paige flushed at the motion, and azzi felt a flicker of feeling, the pink-edged pleasure of catching her wife by surprise; the brief, bright relief of being someone paige wanted to be caught by.

“remind me what tonight is again,” she said, though she knew. she’d known all week.

paige’s eyebrows lifted, amused. she knew this, too.

“dinner, mama. with liv and them.”

azzi closed her eyes, let out a low hum of understanding. liv. paige’s people. the orbit of friends paige had kept from college and the league and the endless overlap of both. they weren’t cruel at all, but azzi liked them less than she liked paige’s teammates. she found this group just a little too sharp, bizarrely competitive in a way that seemed to never turn off. they belonged to the vein of people who made jokes that leaned more offensive than comedic, and then, if you said as much, insisted you were too sensitive if you didn’t laugh.

they loved paige; they loved her rather loudly. but azzi always felt as though she was being assessed beside her, like an accessory someone might return. today in particular, she could not trust the accuracy of that feeling, and that uncertainty made it worse, not better. maybe she was the problem. maybe she was always the problem. the luteal phase specialized in that, making the unfalsifiable feel like fact.

“oh, i don’t really feel like going,” azzi said, and she pushed it out all in one breath.

it came out even, almost casual. she’d tried to make it sound normal, as though she was turning down the offer to view a film.

paige paused, leaning back, further away from her. azzi watched her shoulders flex and idly pressed a palm to the back of her, where she could feel the scapulae shuddering.

“what? why?”

azzi shrugged. her body felt like it was full of wet sand.

“i’m tired.”

in turn, paige gave her that look - soft, coaxing. her best working look, the one she used with kids at camps, with rookies who looked as though they might cry under another lashing from their coach, with azzi when she refused to admit she needed something, most often help.

“it’s just dinner,” paige said. “we’ll stay for, like, an hour. two, tops.”

azzi stared at the ceiling again. it was never an hour. it was never two. paige got there and became paige—radiant, social, highly regarded—and azzi would sit beside her, wasting away, feeling herself disappear and the copper tang of panic rising as she began to wonder if anyone could see her any longer. if she had already gone. if the thing sitting in her chair at the table was something else wearing her, doing a passable imitation.

“p,” azzi said, quieter, “i really don’t want to.”

paige leaned in then, hovering over her for a moment, before sliding free of azzi’s hold and lingering at the edge of the bed. she leaned down and pressed a kiss to azzi’s forehead -the connection butter-melted, warm and sloping over azzi's body before drifting away.

“you’re just in your head again, baby,” paige murmured. “we get like this, all comfy, just us two. but we gotta see people; it’s good for us. just tryna get us out. c’mon. for me.”

for a moment, the fall of her hair made azzi think of the floral arrangement out in the hallway, the one she’d had made and presented paige with just because: quicksand and playa blanca roses, white tulips, ivory calla lilies, pale beige dahlia, white anemones; a filler of bleached ruscus, dusty miller, and white astilbe. a blonde bouquet, azzi had teased, and paige had laughed even though it wasn’t all that funny. that was marriage, maybe. laughing when things weren't that funny, because the laughter was the point.

for me.

a gentle, affectionate plea. an unintended enormous weight.

azzi felt her lips part, her mouth opening and nearly letting slip: some parasite has crawled inside of me and has tainted me. i can’t explain this to you without sounding entirely insane.

instead, she said, “okay.”

because she loved paige. paige had a strain of loyalty that made you want to match it when exposed to it, made you ache to be the kind of partner who showed up always, who didn’t make things difficult, who was devoid of a devastating internal weather that could take up the whole room.

because she loved paige. and by saying okay, she sent out the only translation available to her, the only word that crossed between her language and paige’s in this moment. and so she said it, though her body was still full of wet sand, and the sun was straining over the room and causing a headache, and she would get up now.

she would get up, and she would go.

because she loved paige.

and that was all, really.

getting ready as a concept was by far easier than the execution of it.

in an effort to energize herself for the evening, azzi had taken herself back to bed after breakfast, pressing a light kiss to paige’s temple as she told her she was going to take a nap. as she strode into their room, she shrugged off the sweat set she had put on for the morning and didn’t bother with dressing herself in anything else before sliding underneath the sheets.

she’d slept too late, into the dark, waking up from a dream that remained more vivid in feeling than in detail. and her body had been so desperate to expel itself from her fantasy that it had forced her into a coughing fit. it had been a terrible feeling, to sit halfway up in the dark with her lungs contracting and expanding erratically, her throat scratched to shit as she heaved out so viciously that she kept retching up air and couldn’t breathe. azzi tried to call for paige but couldn’t get the word out, her voice lost, tried to raise her hands above her head, but it didn’t work the way it normally did, so instead she twisted her way out of the sheets and stumbled and fell into their wardrobe, feet bare against the new soft green body of the persian runner she’d laid against the floor the day before.

she’d turned on so many lights in different rooms looking for her wife—kitchen, bedroom, bathroom—hands pressing and pressing against the walls until she felt the slick white bodies of the switches tilt up, light opening and opening until she was drenched with it, until she was nothing but light and the animal fear of being seen. azzi knew then that she was having a panic attack: legs gone tingly, near numb, and she felt as though she was going to tumble straight off the porcelain rim of the toilet once she made it there. she’d barely made it back to the bedroom, where her phone was propped up, charging, glowing—something rapturous enough that could save her.

and there she lay, four in the afternoon, finally summoning enough strength to call paige, who had been only taking the dogs out. eventually, she felt stable enough to try to fall back asleep somewhere near five fifteen, and was woken again by paige’s gentle rocking at six—dinner was at eight—and azzi gazed at her, face like a moon and heart like a soldier, eyes shutting tightly and intermittently as she tried not to feel sick.

i had a nightmare, azzi told her, and she felt immensely like a child - so much so that she nearly burst into tears. but she pushed on, broke away to go shelter in the shower.

now, azzi stood in front of the mirror and tried to make herself look like someone who belonged properly to this evening's dinner, to her own life. she pulled on a red dress she’d bought months ago but had yet to wear: red, blood red, consequence red. a cling to her shoulders as if trying to hold her in place, keeping her upright. the neckline sat high, qipao-adjacent, nearly choking her but loose enough to avoid doing so - hiding her throat because the throat was vulnerable and everyone knew that. the fabric was fitted along her torso, tailored where it counted, neatly hemmed where it needed to be, but that fell apart at the skirt. the skirt was ruffled, like a secret panic—ruffles on ruffles on ruffles, swallowing her legs, swallowing the floor, an avalanche—folds so thick they looked nearly edible, like cake frosting, except the cut of it wasn’t sweet.

azzi knew paige would like it, even before she came up behind her, knew it would make her wife’s eyes go a little hungry, deepen into sapphire. she put on mascara and watched her lashes darken into black jasper.

her face looked fine, beautiful, even. but her eyes were all wrong, as if she’d been awake for days. she was clearly shaken. hopefully, no one commented on it.

she heard a scrabble of nails on the tile, and when she turned her head to look back, her face didn’t match what she was wearing. her expression was small and careful, as if she were trying to apologize for all that red. after a few blank moments, she remembered herself, peering down at the long, solemn face of their six-year-old cream-colored borzoi with a patient smile, letting a hand down to drag along the velvet backs of her ears as she cooed her name: aemma, my aemma, aemma, sweet girl.

paige came up behind her and slid her hands around azzi’s waist. she pressed her mouth to azzi’s shoulder, warm and easy.

“my god,” paige said, voice low. “you look beautiful.”

azzi should’ve felt flattered, at the very least desired. but she felt a deep wave of sadness so sudden it almost made her dizzy.

i just know i’m something animal, she thought, with brown eyes that are endless and long legs that knock into each other and bruise when i roll back and forth at night. i want to submerge myself underneath our comforter so that i can feel even warmer, even though our heat hasn’t once been turned off. even though i am already burning in the dead of winter.

but could she say nothing of the kind because paige wouldn’t understand her. paige could want her and still not understand her. paige could love her and still not know how lonely it was inside of her head, her mind an endless maze, the leaves devouring her.

azzi swallowed, the sound hard and wet, and forced a minute upturn to the edges of her lips.

“thank you, honey,” she said, and hated how lackluster it sounded.

she felt paige let her go and promptly secured her up-do with a mahogany and white jade hairstick before bending and touching a satin-matte-shade del rio kiss to aemma’s wet nose. when she pulled back, it looked as though the black cobblestone tip was bleeding red.

in the car, paige drove with one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to rest on azzi’s thigh. she always did that, and azzi appreciated the reassurance, the unknown way she was anchoring azzi to the present.

azzi stared out of the window at the city slurring past: streetlights, headlights, neon heartbeats of their chosen hometown. she turned away, back and inward, when paige squeezed her thigh.

“you okay, az?” paige said. “you’ve been a little quiet.”

azzi felt such a swell of affection then, immeasureably touched by paige’s insistence on knowing whether or not she was happy, on being determined to change it if it wasn’t so. she intertwined their hands, joining them, and lifted the bulk to kiss her wife’s knuckles. she smoothed them down after, fingers pressing along pale skin, sending the golden dusting of hair back into its downward drift.

“yes, sorry. i really am tired—that nightmare stole all of my sleep.”

and it truly wasn’t a lie. exhaustion was the most common symptom of her disorder, a depletion that traveled bone-deep, bleaching her limbs white, wearing her down. paige glanced at her, eyes roving up and down azzi’s face, a lighthouse searching.

“you mad at me?”

“of course not.”

“you sure?”

azzi exhaled through her nose. “paige. i’m sure. we wouldn’t have left if i were. you’ve done nothing wrong, i swear.”

paige made a noise low in her throat as though she didn’t believe her—and azzi knew she didn’t—but refrained from the urge to push. paige was like that: patient until she wasn't, patient until she got tired of guessing and yanked rather than pulled at a thread.

they arrived at the restaurant, and azzi’s stomach tightened as soon as she saw the warm spill of light through the windows, the silhouettes of bodies inside. there was a rise of laughter that was shed from the inhabitants, and the sound poured forth into the parking lot, an amber blaze. azzi felt dread seize her from all sides, an onslaught of warning for disaster.

paige parked and turned the car off.

“you good?” paige asked a final time.

azzi saw it for what it was: an escape route. she nodded, resolute.

paige leaned in, kissed her cheek, then her mouth. “one word and we’re gone.”

azzi closed the gap a second time, licking into paige’s mouth before breaking off, wiping carefully at the waxy smear of lipstick she’d left behind. they both knew she wouldn’t say a word, wouldn’t say anything at all.

the restaurant was called the monarch. inside, the lighting was soft, yellowed, and impossibly low, spilling from unseen sources in graceful ribbons that pooled around the edges of the wooden floor. then there was the kitchen: open, exposed, a fire blazing within, emanating something almost psychosexual, a charge that spread as you walked past it. a gaze locked with a chef's for a moment, longer than was necessary. it lingered until you unraveled, wet and runny, a loose yolk.

paige’s friends were already there, of course, gathered around a circular stone table at the center like a small court, and the second paige was in view, the entire group swelled with light. olivia—liv to close friends, olivia mostly to azzi—swept forward, olive neck encircled by a gold band set with a diamond as large as a fruit.

“p!” she cheered.

paige smiled immediately, huge and effortless, the way she did on-camera. she slid into the moment like it was a tailored suit. azzi could only clutch tightly at her fingers and follow a step behind, already feeling the faint sting of being the evening's afterthought.

olivia hugged paige first, tightly. she was an art collector, founder of calatayud collection house; paige had met her through an interior design recommendation from lala and arike, and upon learning they were both from minnesota, born in two sets of coordinates that bordered one another, they had hit it off immediately.

“finally,” she said. “we were about to order apps without you.”

paige laughed. “you wouldn’t.”

“oh, we would. i’m fucking starving! we would’ve gotten you calamari, of course,” liv teased.

she pulled back and looked at azzi. her smile was quick but not unkind. “hey, azzi.”

“hi, liv, it’s really nice to see you again,” azzi said. “you look lovely.”

paige squeezed her hand, thumb rubbing the back of it - you're doing so well. the sentiment seemed to soften liv, and she put a hand on azzi's arm.

“i love your dress. it’s perfect for you.”

“thank you so much,” azzi responded, smiling with as much warmth as she could summon. she accepted the compliment and left it there before her brain could begin its work.

one of the guys—some teammate's brother whose name she could never hold—leaned over and grinned.

“azzi! good to see you’re alive. i swear we never hang out with you these days.”

azzi’s smile stretched stiffly on her face, an unnatural drag. “yeah, i’m sorry about that. it’s just been a bit busy lately.”

"courtesy of the ol' ball and chain," he cracked off, laughing at his own joke, and paige laughed too, because she knew azzi wouldn’t.

azzi laughed a second late, uncomfortably delayed; she could already feel the night draining something from her.

they sat. paige pulled out both their chairs before sliding into her own, and then—without asking—pushed azzi in and ordered two seven-ounce glasses of wine. something azzi usually found sweet - the way paige remembered her preferences, the way paige remembered her without having to be reminded. but tonight it rankled, felt like being spoken for. their knees pressed together under the table, casual intimacy,

conversation moved quickly, a blessing, darting between league gossip and old stories and inside jokes azzi wasn’t part of. paige was relaxed, leaning back, talking with her hands. azzi watched the ligaments move, the joints articulating as she expressed herself; her laugh was everywhere, a mellow lullaby, and azzi felt herself begin to separate—from her chair, from the table, from the version of herself she'd been only a few hours ago—as she watched paige become the public paige, the one the world got. she watched the ease with which paige belonged, and the sadness in her chest deepened, slow and sticky, like resin setting.

she tried. she really tried.

she remembered herself, her tasks, asked questions. she smiled and nodded along to someone’s news about this and that, even made a joke that landed well and earned a boisterous round of laughter, and then another that glened a few more. and for a moment, she felt the relief of being perceived as normal, as one of the group, with skin that fit.

then olivia turned to paige, wine glass raised coyly to the side of her cheek, wrist loose.

“so,” liv said, green eyes glittering—moss over rock—, “is it true y’all are moving?”

paige shrugged. “might be.”

azzi blinked, once and then again, before slowly turning her head to look over at her wife. paige kept talking, fingers toying with her napkin ring.

“we’ve been thinking about it for a while. just like… somewhere quieter.”

azzi felt her stomach drop. it wasn't the first time they'd talked about moving; they both ached for that sally mann kind of living, especially thinking about children. but—but nothing had been decided. and paige was talking about it as though it were settled, set in stone, as though azzi wasn't sitting right there with her own resistances and reservations; as though she were a footnote in this decision already made.

liv’s eyebrows shot up. “oh, my god. paige bueckers in the suburbs.”

laughter circled the table. the outpour settled into azzi’s body like a vibration. she felt like a bell, struck.

paige twisted her face in mock offense before letting it fall into an easy smile. “hey! not too much, now. i’m still me.”

azzi kept her face neutral, but she leaned closer to paige, voice a low curl.

“we’re moving?” she repeated.

paige's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. she turned so that for a moment they were closer than ever, heads settled together, uninviting the table from their intimacy. the position put only the other in focus, and it was why they both missed the dark shutter of olivia's face and the large swallow of wine that followed.

“not like, decided, mama,” paige murmured. “‘m just talking.”

azzi nodded, laid her hand along paige's thigh to say she understood. but something in her tightened: a small humiliation, a tiny cut. they broke apart, and the conversation rolled on, and azzi found herself shrinking again, pulling back from the edge of the table as if loath to let the light reach where she sat.

at some point, cam—another friend—looked at azzi and said, with the careful lightness of someone who actually wanted to know,

“you good? you look like you’re about to cry.”

it had a teasing nature, as though it were a joke. and azzi knew it was intended as much. cameron was one of the only people here she genuinely liked—a newly licensed therapist, and exceptional at it. a truly sweet girl. she'd probably leveled the question with levity precisely so the table wouldn't turn.

azzi felt her face flush. she stared at her water glass.

“i’m fine,” she answered, and it was meant to be soft, but came out like the shut of a door.

cameron raised her hands, silver rings blinding with the reflecting light. “okay. just checking.”

azzi touched her mouth in delayed horror, went to apologize, but the moment had already moved past her. azzi’s throat tightened. she blinked slowly and held her face in place. paige leaned in, murmuring, you’re fine, baby. cam knows you didn’t mean it, and azzi hummed and flagged down the server for a refill of her water.

paige was most likely right, but azzi couldn’t ignore it. she couldn’t set aside the way her insides were twisting, the height of the disorder rising, spitting her back out in a knot.

the rest of the dinner blurred. their plates arrived. azzi had chosen fish—salmon, to be exact—and it arrived blushing pink and sliced thin, fanned opulently across a black wire rack, flesh glistening under the low light, adorned by garnishes of black caviar, horseradish, and jewel-bright jam in a delicate blue-and-white porcelain dish. a set of crisp flatbreads leaned artfully against the edge; a tableau seemed made for someone else, far more present.

azzi picked at the salmon with the side of her fork, letting it curl onto her plate like a ribbon unwound. she spread a whisper of jam onto sourdough and bit into it without tasting, careful to maintain the pace of someone enjoying herself. her stomach tightened with every pass of the spoon over caviar, every careful dollop of cream. the food felt like a prop, her enjoyment a performance, and she could feel the audience—even if no one was watching—aware of her disconnection.

paige's hand stayed on azzi's thigh, but it did nothing now to soften the way her mind grew louder, her body heavier. she felt as though she was trapped behind glass, watching herself smile. by the time they'd made their perfunctory rounds of goodbye hugs and cheek kisses, her face ached from the effort of holding expression.

outside, the air was cold enough to bite. it should have helped, a glacial spill of clarity over her head. instead, it only made her feel more exposed. paige traipsed ahead, ribbing someone walking alongside them, and azzi slowed until she was floating behind like a spectre, watching their hands separate from a few paces back. she was dimly aware of it: the way paige reacted to the absence of her—an immediate stop, a loose spin edged with panic until she found her again. azzi stored that somewhere small and private, momentarily buoyed.

eventually, they made it to the car. the last friend peeled off three rows away, and paige turned the heat on, rnb starting automatically - a suede bluetooth bloom. she reversed out of the spot with one hand on the wheel and the other reaching across for azzi, neck bent like a crane’s leg as she looked manually out the rear window.

azzi didn’t move her leg away, but she didn’t lean into it either. as they pulled back onto the highway, the silence stretched. paige glanced at her, cobalt gaze pinched.

“you okay?”

azzi gazed through the windshield, face as empty as the glass, before going, “yeah.”

paige’s hand slid away. “no, you’re not.”

azzi said nothing.

“az.”

the particular exasperation in it, the plea threaded through the irritation, made azzi's skin prickle.

“what?” she said.

“why are you acting like this?”

azzi kept her eyes on the road. “like what?”

“like you're somewhere else entirely,” paige snapped. like you can't stand being near me.”

azzi's hands were folded in her lap, fingers pressed together so tightly that the joints had gone white. she pursed her lips.

“i told you i didn’t want to go,” she reminded her. she knew it was the wrong thing to say, though she said it anyway.

paige made a short sound. “okay, but you came.”

azzi turned her head slightly, looking at paige from underneath her lashes. “because you asked me to.”

“yeah, i asked. i didn’t make you.”

azzi laughed under her breath; bitter, hollow, a sound she barely recognized as her own. “no. but you know i’d do anything for you.”

“it was dinner,” paige said. “it wasn’t a hostage situation.”

azzi's throat burned, constricted. she reached up and pulled the hairstick from the dark twist of her hair, the pull incredibly sharp, three strands ripping free from the root.

“fuck, az—be careful.”

the road lights dripped across everything—windsheild, windows, the wing mirrors—high-beam refractions sketching paige's face briefly unfamiliar, harder, the angles more severe than azzi knew them.

“i felt like shit the whole time,” azzi said. “and your friends were being—.”

“my friends weren’t doing anything,” paige said immediately.

azzi looked at her. a long, even look. she could hear herself somewhere deep down, screaming at her to stop. “did you know that liv is in love with you?”

paige pressed her heel to the floor mat, grip tightening on the wheel. “not this again. she's not. she just jokes—that's how she is.”

“that's the problem.” azzi's voice stayed level, which somehow felt worse than if it had risen. “that’s always the excuse. that's how she is. that’s how they all are. that’s how you are. that's how i’m supposed to be.”

paige exhaled sharply.

“what the fuck are you talking about right now? you want me to cut them off? fight everybody?”

azzi’s voice rose, involuntary. “no. i would never ask you to do that.” she settled. “i went to the dinner. i just want you to notice me, to notice when i’m uncomfortable.”

“i do notice you,” paige said, and there was something almost wounded in it now. “baby, i married you. i did that so i could notice you for the rest of my life.”

azzi shook her head. “that’s not what i mean.”

paige’s laugh had no humor in it. “do you even know what you mean?”

azz gave up then, turning from the rigid side profile of paige’s face to press her forehead to the cold glass of the passenger window. her breath fogged a small circle, and she watched it shrink. she felt on the edge of collapse, and the precipice felt almost like a relief. she felt like she was already over it, a hair's breadth away from disintegration.

“no, i don’t,” azzi whispered

paige softened at that, body tenderized by the admission, and reached out to run a hand through azzi's fallen hair.

azzi didn't want to be this. a dramatic creature picking fights over topics that disguised her real afflictions. a serrated edge cutting and cutting until she'd bled out everyone's patience and tenderness for her, no longer beholden to tolerance. she loathed her ability to be difficult. she didn't want to be the kind of wife who turned everything into an emergency, who pulled every thread until the whole thing came apart.

but the thing about her and this insipid disorder was that it didn't feel anything like distortion. it simply felt like the truth, like her body handing her a document and saying: here. here is everything. evidence filed and organized. case closed.

azzi swallowed, her words tumescent and stuck. this all felt humiliating. how could you explain to someone that you were being possessed by your own making? that your brain had turned into a room full of weaponry, endless torture?

they turned into the drive, and as soon as paige parked, azzi unbuckled her seatbelt and burst from the car, stepping out before the engine had fully settled, moving without urgency but without pause; moving how she moved only when trying to outpace herself and knowing she couldn’t.

the garage door sealed shut behind them, and paige turned the car off as azzi fumbled with her keys. she got out quietly, closing the driver’s side behind her, and quietly selected the right one for the lock. azzi stayed still, staring straight ahead. paige perched her head on top of hers, thumb brushing azzi’s wrist.

“c’mon, mama,” paige said.

azzi stood just inside the doorway, coat still on, as though part of her had not yet agreed to come home. her body felt stuck in external mode, unable to unclench.

“az,” paige’s arms spread slightly. an opening, a doorway, please just step through it. “what is going on with you?”

azzi could only stare at her. paige's face was open, exhausted, and frustrated, and still, underneath all of it, trying. she was only offering her hands out. and azzi wanted to step into them—god, she wanted to—but something in her was still animal-cornered, still certain that if it stopped moving the chase would end and then it would die.

“i told you i didn’t want to go,” azzi said again. her voice sounded as though it was coming from someone else.

paige rubbed a hand over her face. “okay. yes. but we went. it’s done.”

azzi’s eyes stung.

paige stepped closer, reaching for her again. “come here.”

azzi jerked back.

“please don’t,” she said.

paige's hand stopped, fingers mid-curl. a terrible silence. azzi watched the hurt move across her face before it hardened over.

“what the hell?” paige said.

“please,” azzi's voice was barely above a whisper now, shaking at its edges. “i’m sorry. i can’t.”

she pressed her hands to her temples. her head felt like a hive, bees shouldering each other for space.

“you can’t what?”

“i don’t think i can be touched right now.”

paige exhaled through her mouth. when she spoke next, the frustration was still there, but so was something more unraveled - fraying, genuine. “so let me just understand: you can't be touched, you can't talk, you can't do dinner. i don’t—what am i supposed to do, az? what is it you actually need from me?"

azzi’s chest felt as though it was collapsing inward, and she was suddenly and entirely elsewhere—pulled back to her university days, stolen into the memory of the black, sweltering mouth of the tunnels as she rode the train late at night, watching the yellow-pocket-windows of passing carriages blinking in and out of the dark. other lives. other people, continuing. she was always in the tunnel between them.

“i don’t know,” azzi said finally.

paige's voice rose, not to a shout, but to the register just before it, where the control began to show its seams. “you don't know. azzi. you’ve been shutting down since this morning. looking at me like i’ve done something terrible. and i just—” she stopped, her jaw tight. when she looked back, what came out was small and almost involuntary, more exhaustion than pointed cruelty.

“you’re acting crazy right now.”

crazy.

the word arrived quietly. that was almost the worst of it, that it hadn’t been hurled in a fit of high temper, an accidental shot off a rifle both had thought unloaded. it had just slipped out, the way the most damaging things had a habit of. and it landed in azzi's chest, on the floor of her stomach, anchored to the ocean floor.

crazy.

the ugliest shorthand, the easiest dismissal. the easiest way to harm her. a fear fulfilled: her body was so unknowable, her mind even more so, and azzi always felt silly when she thought something was wrong because she was known to be a hypochondriac. but what was hypochondria but the body’s prophecy of its own unraveling? maybe, in ways, she was only a visionary. from the arcana, she’d nearly always pull high priestess.

azzi’s breath left her body in a swell of oxygen that mangled into a salt note not quite a sob. she gazed shell-shocked at paige, eyes wide and unblinking, and she felt the strangest sensation - floating above herself, watching the moment unfold from the ceiling. a sudden bid for freedom, as if she’d been waiting for this exact word. she stood very still. the kitchen light was on, and in it she could see aemma tucked against the base of the cabinet, ears low.

once, the world had been devoured by the chassis of hurricane named callum, and azzi still had to go to work. she’d felt as though she were in a mausoleum, everything so slick and wet and stony and gray. the winds were so strong that she’d lost every fight against them and was pushed by phantom hands, by the breath of something larger than weather. by the end, when she entered the sliding glass doors of her office building, she’d felt like the swell was inside of me and all she had to do was open her mouth and scream, collapse to the ground and writhe, and let it all spill out.

all the glass shattering and tumbling down, the concrete stairs rumbling as they divorced from one another and crashed onto every sign of life. the textile display in the lobby would go first, those great looming blank bodies snapping like branches off of toppling oaks. and azzi, in the middle, on the verge of running but unable to disengage with what possessed her. this is what it meant to live her own life.

she felt much like that now.

when azzi spoke again, her voice was different, unbearably quiet.

“i woke up this morning, and i felt it already,” she said. “before i even opened my eyes. just…waiting.” azzi wasn’t looking at paige. she was looking at the floor, or at nothing, or at the shape of whatever it was that she was trying to say. “i feel it moving, surging through me like i’m the levee and it’s the water. i feel it crawling all over me, a snake determined to bite. and i’m paralyzed, i'm watching myself, and i know—i know—it's not real. or it is real, but it’s wrong. but i can’t stop it. i’m helpless. i can’t get out of my own way. and moves much faster when it realizes i’m unable to fight.”

she stopped. she pressed her palm flat against the front of her coat, directly over her sternum.

“yes,” she said, “i do feel rather insane.”

paige’s face changed instantaneously.

“azzi—”

“don’t.”

azzi’s voice ripped, though still no rise. she shrugged her coat off, the heap sloughing to the floor.

“don't do that voice. you can’t fix this. there isn't a version of tonight where you say the right thing, and i'm okay.” she paused. “i’m not saying that to be cruel, paige. i’m saying it because it’s true.”

“it’s as though i'm strapped in, and someone else is driving,” she said, and her voice had gone to something very small, very careful, a near gasp as she searched for the best words and found them far from her. “and i can see the road. i can see everything—i see myself say things and think things and do things and feel things that make me—and i still can't—i can't make it stop."

she wiped at her face, furious at the tears.

“i know how it looks,” she said. “i know.”

paige stood perfectly still, like she was afraid that any sudden movement would cause azzi to shatter all over the floor.

“i know i’m being irrational, that i’m hard this way,” azzi continued. “i hear myself, and i have no idea who is speaking. living this way—sometimes i’ve gone into the bathroom and stared at myself and tried to talk myself down like a child having a tantrum.”

she dragged in a breath, shoulders shaking.

“and the entire time it’s just… grief. it’s grief for no reason, grief in different forms, changing outfits. it’s grief like a flood. it’s my brain trying its damndest to convince me for two weeks straight that i am deeply unloved and unwanted and disgusting, and then i look at you—” she swallowed, voice cleaving. “and you’re the only thing i have, and i still can’t hold onto you properly.”

paige’s eyes were glassy. her mouth opened, then closed. azzi shook her head, as if setting something loose.

“and the worst part,” azzi said, quieter now, almost ashamed, “is that i just have to bear it. every time.”

paige stepped forward, and azzi didn’t fall back this time.

“i’m sorry,” paige said. her voice was oddly stripped, raw; it didn’t get that way often. “i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.”

azzi’s sadness thrashed inside of her, misery tidal and enormous. paige meant it. paige meant it so sincerely that it hurt.

azzi shook her head. she pressed both hands over her face for a moment, then let them drop. she crossed the kitchen slowly, past paige, past aemma—pausing only long enough to cup her dog's narrow chin, press her lips to the bridge of her nose, feel the warmth of fur against her mouth. then she went to the top drawer of the kitchen hutch. her fingers found the paper without looking. she was always aware of its exact location, the way one was always aware of a bruise. only now were they beginning to touch the real wound.

she turned it over once and then again, before speaking.

“that day, i went to the gynecologist,” she said. “last year, in march. i came back and told you that she told me it was only pms.”

paige nodded slowly, confused.

“yeah, i know,” she told her.

azzi’s throat tightened at the phrase, sweet and sure. it made paige sound younger.

“you don’t,” she corrected. she lifted herself to full height, turned, gaze unflinching. “i lied.”

they didn’t lie to each other, or at least they used to not, and azzi saw the blow hit its mark. paige's mouth twisted down, face shifting through every stage of grief.

“what?”

azzi’s face crumpled.

“i didn’t want you to stop loving me,” she said, clutching her elbows. “and when she told me, i felt—i felt so disgusting. i cried in the car, nearly had an accident. i mean, she did—it was that. a form of it. just much more. white lie, really.”

paige’s eyes filled.

“you’re not disgusting,” paige said, and it sounded like a slur, furious. “you’re not. you’re perfect.”

without a word, azzi surrendered, held it out.

paige took it. read it. azzi watched as paige read it, the words already scored into her memory, her every cell.

azzi watched her face as one would watch the landscape outside the window, hooked on every minor change: the small furrowing, the progressive stilling, and then the place where paige stopped reading, and the whole of her pulled inward, an elongated inhale.

paige looked up. her eyes were wet. her expression was coldly furious, though azzi knew not at what: her or the situation.

“what does that mean?” she said. it was low, barely a question. “si. hi.”

azzi knew paige had already understood. azzi had fallen in love with a smart girl, had married a smart woman. she knew that paige had done the math, but had simply asked in the hope of correction.

she reached behind herself, back to the drawer, for the torn bottom half of the form she’d torn upon reception; the part she'd separated as soon as she'd gotten to the car that day, as though distance between the pages might soften what was on them. she held it out. paige snatched it from her, eyes skimming anxiously.

azzi saw the exact moment the words registered.

the apartment was now very quiet. azzi slipped around her and went to bed.

patient name: azzi fudd

dob: 11/11/2002

mrn: 004*****

date: 03/09/2025

assessment/diagnosis:

premenstrual dysphoric disorder (pmdd) (icd-10: f32.81)

rule out: major depressive disorder (mdd)

rule out: generalized anxiety disorder (gad)

history/presenting complaint:

patient reports severe mood lability, irritability, anxiety, fatigue, and depressive symptoms occurring during the luteal phase (approximately 10–14 days prior to menses), with resolution within the first few days of menstruation. symptoms have been present for >12 months and cause significant impairment in social and occupational functioning. patient reports “feeling like a different person.” patient endorses intermittent passive suicidal ideation during symptomatic periods without active plan or intent.

symptoms reported (luteal phase):

marked irritability/anger

depressed mood

hopelessness

tearfulness

anxiety/tension

difficulty concentrating

fatigue/low energy

sleep disturbance

appetite changes/cravings

somatic symptoms (bloating, breast tenderness, headache)

mental status exam:

alert and oriented x3. affect tearful and congruent with mood. thought process linear. no psychosis. insight intact. judgment intact. passive si reported during luteal phase; denies active si/hi at the time of visit.

plan:

begin symptom tracking for 2 menstrual cycles

discuss ssri options (intermittent luteal-phase dosing vs continuous)

consider combined oral contraceptive (drospirenone-containing) if appropriate

recommend psychotherapy (cbt/dbt skills for mood regulation)

safety plan reviewed; crisis resources provided

follow-up in 4–6 weeks

provider: dr. hanna korso, md ob/gyn / psychiatry

azzi cried herself out in stages.

it couldn’t pass in any clean catharsis, so it came in waves; shuddering, breathless bursts that made her ribs ache, each one receding only far enough to gather into the next. she managed to guide herself to the bedroom before sinking. the duvet swallowed her. somehow her nightgown had been donned—though she couldn't have said when, only that she was in it—and the room was dim around her, curtains half-drawn, the air cool against her overheated skin.

she lay there in the aftermath of herself. her face felt tight, the mascara drying in small obsidian fissures at the outer corners of her eyes. she had the distant thought that she was going to ruin their pillowcases and then couldn’t bring herself to care. she had begun, somewhere in the interval between the kitchen and here, to build a very detailed and almost tranquil vision of her future as a divorcee—the apartment she'd have, the quality of its lonesome silence—when the duvet lifted, and paige crawled in.

she was still dressed: suit jacket gone, but the dinner shirt still on, three buttons loose at the throat, the fabric carrying the residue of the evening spent in it. she had at least kicked her shoes off before getting in. azzi noticed this even with her face turned toward the wall. she noticed things about paige the way your body could note its own temperature, rather automatically, without ever having to try.

“hey,” she murmured.

azzi kept her face to the wall. she had nothing left to give, not even a language for a semblance of what nothing felt like.

paige didn’t ask her to turn over and look at her. she had learned, in the years they had been together, that eye contact could make azzi retreat further, turn her elusive; could transmute an offering into something that felt like interrogation, or like being witnessed in the midst of self-administered punishment. so paige tucked in behind her instead, one arm coming around azzi's waist, careful with the pressure: present, not restraining, maintaining a hold that strayed devotedly from becoming a trap.

it was only information: i am here. you are not alone, here, in this bed. i am in our life with you, our world. she only wanted azzi to know she was there.

azzi's breath hitched at the warmth of it, the unbidden mercy, and paige pressed her mouth to the back of her shoulder through the cotton.

“you can’t just go to sleep whenever things get hard,” paige said. “what are you, that princess and her pea?”

she kept her body very still while she waited, and azzi felt it—the tension paige was holding, the careful suspension of her, hoping—and laughed weakly, against the pillow. she felt paige exhale against her back.

“i’m here,” paige continued, lower, a soothing coo. “you’re good. you’re safe with me.”

azzi, in response, made a sound that didn’t resemble any language. she squeezed her eyes shut, and her whole body was tremulous as though held in tension for days, a deep internal shudder of something held very tightly for a very long time. paige's hand found the hem of azzi's nightgown and slipped beneath it, hitching it up to her stomach, palm warm and flat against the bare skin of her lower back.

and then she began: dragging her nails, slowly, up the length of azzi's spine, and back down. not hard enough to scratch. the point was not to scratch, but to apply just enough pressure, enough range of motion to send a sense of electric relief through her body. a slow, repetitive motion that told azzi’s nervous system: come down. you can come down now.

azzi inhaled sharply.

paige kept going.

up. down. up. down. up.

azzi didn't know when paige had learned this about her; she didn't think she'd ever explained it, had never had the words to explain it, but somehow paige had found it the way she’d found out most things about her wife, through meticulous and repeated attention. and right now, the forbearance of it, the utter lack of agenda in the motion, was the most devastating form of consideration she could have offered. azzi’s breathing transformed into a loosening, became a soft breeze. the panic inside her began to lose all architecture under the metronome of touch, melting into exhaustion.

“i hate this,” azzi whispered. her voice was wrecked, scraped clean. “god, i hate this.”

paige’s mouth pressed to her shoulder again. “i know.”

“i hate who i become.”

paige's nails kept their slow path, a tide going out.

“you’re not whoever it is you feel like you become,” paige said. and then, more quietly, like she was deciding it as she said it: “you’re just…who you are. you’re who you’ve always been. i know who you are.”

azzi swallowed. she could still taste the shame of their argument, the subsequent reveal, the shame of having been seen mid-fracture, and underneath that - the echo of crazy in her skull, moving to and fro, like a tennis match.

paige’s voice shifted, delicate now in a different way.

“i just hate that you felt you couldn't tell me.”

azzi didn’t answer. paige’s hand paused pace for half a second, as if she was checking something, then resumed, slower than before.

“and i shouldn’t have called you…that,” paige said. “i got frustrated, and i got careless, and i shouldn’t have said it.”

her voice was even, but azzi could feel the effort that evenness was costing her. she could feel it in paige's chest, pressed against her back, the slight irregularity of her breathing, the way her arm was not quite as relaxed as it appeared. paige was doing what she also chose to do: absorbing the blow, steadying herself, making herself a landmark, a solid presence for azzi to press against. and azzi was grateful for it and also, dimly, felt the ache of knowing what it must require.

she reached down and wrapped her fingers around paige's forearm, and without quite meaning to, began to mimic the same slow motion against paige's skin—up the muscle, and back. a reciprocation, or an apology, or just the only language available to her in that moment.

“i’m sorry,” azzi said. “for picking a needless fight. for keeping something like that from you.” she felt her throat tighten. “i was so scared. i thought—i don’t know what i thought.”

but she did.

she stopped. then: “i just—it feels like i’m possessed. like there’s something in me.”

paige hummed softly, a sound like understanding even if she couldn’t fully understand. azzi knew she couldn't fully, but this was someone who was choosing to believe her without any requirement. there was a difference, and azzi felt it.

“i believe you,” paige said.

the words sluiced over azzi, body entire, like warm water. like heat.

i believe you.

her eyes filled once more. it was devastating what that could do to you, the simple, unglamorous, complete act of being believed. paige’s nails moved a little firmer now, as if slowly coaxing something back, a fox in a burrow, a piece of azzi that had gone into hiding and needed to be persuaded that it was safe to return.

“i don’t want to be another person who makes you feel alone in it,” paige said, and her voice was quieter now, less certain; the careful admission of someone not entirely sure they hadn’t done that already. “i don’t wanna be that for you. i don’t.”

azzi's voice broke at the seams. “i feel so alone. i think i just can’t help it.”

paige’s arm tightened. “you're not.” and then, with a firmness that sounded like she was saying it to herself too: “you're not, azzi. you have me. you have aemma. you have our families, our people, our friends.” a pause. “well, the ones you actually like.”

azzi turned her head slightly. paige kissed her cheek immediately, before the laugh had even finished forming. then again. then she settled her forehead against azzi's temple, and her nails kept moving and azzi's answered against her forearm, and they stayed like that, spent an indeterminate amount of time doing question and answer, creation then recreation, call and response. each of them tended to the other in the only small ways available to them in that moment.

up. down. up. down.

up.

azzi's tears slowed. her body grew heavier, settling into the mattress by degrees, gravity reasserting itself as the crisis ebbed. the rage, the grief, the humiliation of being known this way - it all began to dull around the edges, losing definition. her eyelids stuttered. her palm flattened against paige's arm, and she felt paige still beneath her touch, a long, slow exhale pressing against the back of her neck.

she could feel paige coming down, too. that was the thing she didn't know if paige understood she could feel: the slow release of the effort it cost to be the bigger person, the way her wife’s body had finally, tentatively, begun to unknot itself now that azzi's had, as though she'd been holding breath this whole time. as she was always holding it.

paige’s voice drifted into her hair like smoke. “you want water?”

azzi shook her head faintly.

“you want me to stop?”

azzi's hand tightened around paige's arm; a fierce, involuntary grip.

“no.”

it was a fierce negotiation, and paige exhaled, a soft sound, nearly a laugh, full relief.

“okay, mama,” she murmured. “i got you.”

she kept going. the same route, the same slow pressure, over and over, until azzi's breathing turned shallow and regular and her grip on paige's arm loosened into something more like holding than clinging. azzi fell asleep like that: face still damp, breath carrying the last of the salt in it, paige’s arm locked around her middle like a promise vowed to never break.

paige did not fall asleep for some time. she lay in the dark with her eyes open, her hand still moving—at its slowest now, barely a motion, more a resting of her palm—and thought about the piece of paper still on the kitchen counter, and what it said on it, and what it meant that she had spent over a year not knowing.

when azzi woke, the room was pale with morning.

for a moment, like that first morning, she didn't move. she lay still and took inventory, checking for the emotional hangover, the leftover dread. her body felt leaden, her eyes swollen, her throat intolerably dry. the pillowcase was cool and slightly damp where her face had been.

but there was something else too. a tenderness that pooled around her heart and low in her belly, a warmth she hadn't expected to find. a small, unfamiliar calm, still water.

paige's side of the bed was empty. the sheets were still warm where she'd been.

azzi sat up slowly. her nightgown was wrinkled, twisted around her thighs. she looked down at herself and felt the bloom of it immediately; an old, fast shame. god. i must have looked insane. the word returned like pressing a bruise. she closed her eyes and swallowed it down, held it in her throat until it became just a word again, and then stood.

she padded down the hallway barefoot, moving carefully, as though her legs might crack if she walked too fast. she could smell coffee. she could smell the deep, dark sweetness of powdered sugar and french toast.

paige was on the living room floor.

she was cross-legged on that horrid cowhide rug—the one azzi had searched long and hard for because she knew paige would love it—thick lilac hoodie on and drowning her, blonde hair tumbling free from a low-nape bun. she was surrounded by material as if preparing for something important: books spread open around her, papers everywhere, a legal pad at an angle beside her laptop, a baby blue highlighter in hand. azzi hadn't seen her arranged like this since their college days, since the nights before a game.

her laptop screen cast a thin, bluish light across her ankles, and it made the veins there look stained, made her look younger: closer to the girl she'd been before the league, before the cameras, before the stalker, before the endured labor of holding her chosen career. there were printouts with clinical terminology sectioning off their headers, an actual medical textbook cracked open and weighted down with paige's crossed thigh, sticky notes bristling from the spines of two more books - small flags planted in foreign soil. a page of her legal pad was swallowed in sharp, angular handwriting.

azzi's eyes found her own name: az. luteal phase. 10–14 days before period.

paige's jaw was tight. her lips moved slightly as she read, clearly in the midst of processing a slew of text, trying not to panic. her knee bounced a steady, unconscious rhythm against the rug. she hadn't heard azzi yet—she was too far inside of it—but then a floorboard gave under azzi’s foot, and paige looked up. her expression changed immediately, something in her face releasing.

“hey,” paige said. “you're awake.”

azzi's mouth opened. nothing came out at first. her eyes roved over the pages: her name in paige’s beloved handwriting, the highlighted lines of close text she could half-read from where she stood, the clinical language spilling wildly out of its margins, curling and curling.

“hey, pretty baby,” she said finally, stepping closer. “what is this?”

paige shifted, a flicker of something almost sheepish moving across her face. she scratched the back of her neck.

“i couldn't sleep,” she said. “so i started reading.”

she nodded toward the papers. a confession.

“i just kept thinking about it. i didn’t realize it’s two weeks,” paige said. “i thought—i thought it was just right before your period. i knew it was bad, but i didn’t know it was that long.”

azzi's eyes burned. she stood still and let paige keep talking, because paige needed to say it, and because azzi needed to hear what it sounded like coming back to her from the outside.

“and it says the hormone levels aren't even necessarily abnormal,” paige continued. “it's the sensitivity. the way the brain responds to the shift.” her voice reedy, anxiety an underscore. “it's not the hormones. it’s that your brain can't—it—you can't regulate against them.”

she swallowed.

“paige—” azzi began, but paige jerked in place, struck.

“i didn't know it could make you feel suicidal,” paige interrupted, and her voice fell around the word like a shroud. “i didn't know it could get like that. i didn’t.”

azzi covered her mouth with her hand, head tilting to the side with the sudden hit of understanding. paige’s gaze stayed on her, steadier than she looked, blue fire, bright and endless. terrified.

“it says it can make you want to—” paige shook her head once, hard. she couldn't finish the sentence. her throat moved. “azzi. what the fuck. why didn't you tell me that?”

azzi opened her mouth. still, nothing came. her throat felt neatly sliced, as if given a paper cut, as if she had had her neck against a blade and had chosen to turn it very swiftly a few degrees to the right.

paige stood up quickly, almost stumbling, needing to move or she'd stay too still and feel the full implication of it all at once. her hands went into her hair. she was breathing harder now, though she was trying not to show it, the way she tried not to show anything that looked like losing control. azzi knew this body. she knew what it looked like when paige was frightened.

“is that true?” paige asked. her voice was barely her own. “is that something you—”

she stopped, unable to say the word. paige bueckers, who had stared down arenas full of screaming strangers, who had taken the ball in the last seconds of games that felt like life or death and treated them as neither—she could not say this word. her mouth held the arrow and would not release it.

azzi’s vision turned to a haze. paige’s face collapsed, a rupture of feeling.

“oh my god,” paige breathed.

she looked like she’d been told something irreversible. her hands dropped from her hair. she crossed to azzi in two steps and reached for her as though she needed to verify her, needed the physical evidence of her solidity, the warmth of her still being here - flesh and blood. her hands landed on azzi's shoulders, too firm at first, grip calibrating.

her eyes were wet. her voice went somewhere small that azzi rarely heard from her. azzi looked at her, at the fear moving openly across her face, undisguised, nothing held back or managed.

paige, whose whole professional life had trained her to withstand, was not withstanding at all.

that pale face twisted.

“i can't lose you,” she whispered. it came out a hoarse cry, the words too exposed for the room. “i can't. i just can’t. i wouldn’t be able to—i can’t.”

azzi knew she needed to go slowly here. paige wasn’t necessarily fragile—paige was decidedly far from fragile but if she were to be azzi would only hold her, retain the strength required for the both of them—but because the truth was housed in a room kept locked and labelled si (do not speak of), and even now she dawdled at handing over the key, at allowing paige a step into this barbed country without a map.

“i don't really want to die,” azzi said.

she said it plainly, without softening it or adding to it, and watched paige's eyes flicker with the slow burn of relief, uncertain whether it was allowed to land. she reached up and touched paige's wrist. paige's hand closed around hers immediately, an automatic grip.

“that is the truth. i don’t. it’s never been that. it's not that,” azzi repeated, tone purposefully sluggish, clearer. “i’ve never wanted to die. i only wanted the pain to be over.”

paige's face cracked down the middle, and she shut her eyes.

“jesus,” she whispered. “jesus christ.”

azzi moved closer, until paige’s hoodie brushed her cheek. paige smelled of what must have been her fifth cup of coffee, her body quivering with the proof, sleep, and an animal-warm base that surfaced only when she was scared; a bodily instinct that bypassed all fragrance entirely and went straight to skin. azzi lifted her other hand to paige’s face, thumb settling beneath her eye, where the wet had gathered.

paige opened them. and what was there, what azzi found, was not only fear but a more severe wound; one that skulked underneath the horror.

“sometimes i feel like you don't love me,” paige said. her voice was hoarse. she looked away as she said it, a quick involuntary flinch, like she hadn't meant to be that candid. “when you get like this.”

azzi turned to stone. paige looked down at her hands, watched them flex blankly. “you look at me like you can't stand me. like i'm in your way. i know you don't mean it—i know. but it gets into my head.” a pause. “and it stays there.”

azzi's throat closed. there was no longer any air.

this was the part of the disorder she never let herself think about fully, what it cost those she loved—especially paige—to live adjacent to it. not only its inconvenience, but its horrible, invasive, private wound: being looked at by the person you love and not being recognized in what you see looking back.

“oh, baby,” azzi whispered.

paige's jaw tightened. she was trying, with everything she had, not to fully cry; as though crying meant she had made this about herself, and she didn't want it to be about herself. god, azzi wished she’d be more selfish.

“come here,” azzi said.

she climbed into paige's lap, and paige handled her immediately, arms going around her waist, and azzi felt the grip, tighter than comfort. azzi took paige's face in both hands and made her look directly at her. paige's cheeks were full and damp, baby fat slick. she hadn’t permitted herself to cry, but she had cried anyway, weak against the instinct.

“once,” azzi began, hesitant. “once i got very close.”

she felt paige go ramrod straight, but azzi placed a firm hand on the back of her neck and brought her to heel.

“i think the worst days are the ones where i can’t pin the sadness on anything else. i’d been coming off of ovulation. we were in college, well, i was, you’d gone off then, drafted—” azzi broke off, memory overlapping as she built the bones of her confession. “senior year. i took a bath, it was only meant to be a bath, really. but i was so tired. it had hit me so deeply that day, i think i wasn’t really eating the way i should’ve been at that time, and so i kept sinking and i just—i slipped.” she shrugged. “i went under, and for a moment it was beautiful. i was weightless, and even as my lungs began to burn, my legs kicking, hips bucking, i did nothing to resurface. it was going to be over. it was what i had always gambled with my entire life: a bid for freedom.”

she knew paige was starting to remember, could feel it in the way her mouth parted against her shoulder, teeth ivory-slick against her collarbone; the slow reconstruction of it happening in paige's body before it reached her face: the memory rising, spirit to spirit, azzi on the phone, wet-haired, face drawn, voice skewed in a direction too left of azzi’s normal, in a way paige had noticed and chosen to believe the dismissal of.

“why didn’t you?” paige whispered.

azzi worked at a note in her neck, lifting the coil of blonde with one hand while she dug into the skin. finally, she answered.

“you called.”

and she had. the first call had been banished to voicemail, but then paige had dialed a second time, and there had been a horrible screech of some royalty-free jingle that had come long ago with the phone when azzi had bought it. and azzi had spluttered to life, hair wet and dark against her shoulders, dragging soap and transparent streaks across their bones. she’d picked up, gasping, had brushed off paige’s concern, and sat naked on the tile with her back to the tub’s cool lip as her then-girlfriend told her about the next dates she could come visit.

“i love you,” azzi said, it was not meant as comfort, but as fact. “i love you so much it frightens me. it robs me of my breath sometimes. i just see you, and i feel nothing more than love, something bigger than it, more than i’ve ever loved anything.”

paige panted against her, moist and hot. azzi pressed her lips to paige's cheek, then to the hinge of her jaw. small, unhurried, the kind of kisses that are not about desire but about insisting on presence, on the reality of the person beneath them.

“it's not you,” azzi said, against her skin. “it is never you. it's—my brain running amok over everything. it takes what you're doing, and it gives it back to me incorrectly. you say azzi, i love you, and it gives me don't make me divorce you. you reach for me, and it tells me you're doing it out of obligation.” she stopped. “i don’t know why i feel it, but that doesn’t change that i do. i know it’s wrong. i know while it’s happening. and i still am unable to stop it.”

paige's hands tightened at her waist.

“and it tells me i'm a burden,” azzi continued, the words coming more quietly now, a difficult nerve worked enough to lose some of its power. “that you'd be better off. i know that isn't true. but it doesn't feel like a lie when it's saying it. it feels…sourced. it’s the truth then, and that’s all there is. it takes extra will to combat it.”

paige pulled back to gaze at her with the unguarded attention she reserved for the last two minutes of a close game. total. nothing held back for later. azzi smoothed her thumbs over her cheekbones, pressed a kiss there, too.

“when i’m like that, when i’m like this,” she said, “i don't stop loving you. i’m just inside something i can't see past. i'm scared. i'm trying to survive it, and i don't always know how not to take you down with me. sometimes, in an effort to save you, i push you out.”

azzi felt paige’s spine contract at the thought.

paige said, “i hate that it does that to you.”

“i know, baby,” azzi kissed her temple. let it rest there. “me too.”

a silence settled and then,

“you really scare me,” paige said finally. closer to baseline, a few feet past the panic. “truly terrify me, az. not like, angry, scared. just. you scare me because i love you and i don't know how to fix it.”

azzi nodded. “you don't have to fix it. i don’t think it’s fair to ask that of you.”

“then what do i do?”

azzi looked at her. “this,” she said. “we do this.”

“we manage it. if it ever gets really dark,” azzi said, “i'll tell you. before it gets dark like that. i'll tell you, and you'll hold me, and we'll wait it out. that's what we do.” she paused. “okay?”

paige nodded, wiping her face with her sleeve in that slightly embarrassed way, as though she could retroactively tidy herself up.

“okay,” she said. “yeah. well—no.”

azzi stayed where she was and allowed her to speak.

“you have to go back to the doctor, azzi. you have to see dr. korso and try some of her recommendations. i know—last night, you said something about enduring it, and i just don’t want it to come to that any more. you may have this for the rest of your life, but you’re allowed to lessen your suffering. i want to—i’d like for us to look at some of those ssris she talked about.

“when i researched, i saw it’ll pause if you still want to carry, when we’re trying to get pregnant, but it comes back after. it can be even worse during the years leading up to menopause. i don’t want you on your back, on your knees, when you can be standing.”

azzi kissed her forehead, and paige leaned into it, as though each point of contact was something she needed to stockpile. azzi felt the dizzying pleasure of being needed like this, didn’t find it suffocating. she found it true.

“that’s fair.”

“why is it—what makes you feel like you can’t ask for help?” paige asked, her mouth a brand against azzi’s neck. beneath it, she could feel the torpid rhythm of azzi’s pulse.

“i think it’s because i feel like i'm being hunted,” azzi considered, half to herself. “every month, i know it's coming. i know the date, i know the phase, i know all the clinical words for what's happening in my body. and it still lands like it's the first time.” she pressed her lips together. “like drowning in a pool you've drowned in before and somehow still forgetting not to swim there. i think: this is it, this is the time at which we know best and can face it head on—and then it taps on my shoulder from a blind spot and it stabs me.”

paige pulled her closer, and they sat intertwined under weak sun, layers of research spread around them, the laptop screen still open to a tab she had yet to finish reading, the french toast going cold somwhere on the kitchen counter.

“we're going to figure it out,” paige said, a logistics statement, the voice used for things she intended to solve. “the doctor stuff. the tracking. all of it.”

azzi turned her face into paige's neck. this time, it was her turn to feel paige’s pulse there, that quick spur of life.

“i'm not going anywhere,” azzi murmured. “i will never leave you, do you hear me? not like that. not ever. i swear. i swear.”

paige said nothing in return, but her grip tightened, and azzi knew that meant she would hold her to it. azzi let herself be held here, eyes falling shut, feigning sleep; the entire space drifting into a beach of black. here they were whole and in their bodies in a way that didn’t demand of them a way to climb out.

after, azzi took aemma for a much-needed walk. then, upon the threat of the cold, she dashed back in to grab paige’s gloves off the wall’s black hook and a better scarf. her wife came running, a towel wrung to death in her hands, and asked her, what’s going on?i heard the door open and close. 

azzi had scared her, silent and instant in the hallway.

azzi couldn’t help her faint smile. they’d have to work on that, the jumpiness.

she was halfway out the door again, leash wrapped twice around the knuckle, when she told paige,

it was only me.

I have four more pre-written fics to post for whenever Azzi has an insane game like this!! 😛 Omg I'm just like so proud of her and everything that she's accomplished!! Anywho, here's the first of the smutty celebration one shots! I hope you love it!! xx Elle

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Paige hadn't meant to click on it.

She'd been scrolling through her phone at 2 AM, unable to sleep after another study session at the campus library, when the algorithm served her something different. A thumbnail – tasteful, artistic even – of a woman with dark curls cascading over bare shoulders, eyes that seemed to look directly through the screen. The preview text was simple: Come talk to me.

Paige's thumb hovered. She'd never done this before. Never paid for content, never subscribed to anyone's channel. After Cameryn had cheated on her six months ago, she'd sworn off relationships entirely. No dating, no hookups, no complications. Just basketball, school, and keeping her head down.

But there was something about those eyes.

She clicked.

The free preview showed a girl – Princess A, that was her name – sitting cross-legged on a plush rug, wearing an oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder. She was laughing at something someone had typed in the chat, her whole face lighting up. Not the performative laugh Paige had seen in other clips she'd accidentally stumbled across. This was genuine, warm, like she was actually enjoying herself.

"You guys are ridiculous tonight," Princess A said, shaking her head. Her voice was rich, melodic. "No, I'm not telling you what I look like under this. Use your imagination."

The chat exploded with increasingly explicit suggestions. Princess read through them with an amused smirk, responding to a few with playful deflections. But what caught Paige's attention was how she'd pause on certain comments – the ones that weren't just crude demands. Someone had complimented her new lighting setup. Another had asked about the book on her shelf in the background.

Those were the ones Princess actually engaged with.

Before Paige could talk herself out of it, she subscribed. The username field blinked at her. She typed in the first thing that came to mind: BigDaddyBuckets5. Her high school teammates had called her that – a joke about her confidence on the court and the way she'd sink three pointers like it was nothing. It felt safer than using her real name.

That first night, she just watched. Princess A's stream was different from what Paige had expected. Yes, there were moments that were explicitly sexual, but they were interspersed with genuine conversation. Princess talked about her day, asked her regulars about theirs, created an atmosphere that felt almost... intimate. Like they were all in her bedroom together, just hanging out.

Paige came back the next night. And the night after that.

By the end of the first week, she'd worked up the courage to comment. Nothing crude or demanding – just Your taste in music is incredible. That playlist in the background is fire.

She hadn't expected a response. But Princess's eyes had scanned the chat, paused, and then she'd smiled. "BigDaddyBuckets5 – thank you! Finally, someone with actual taste. What's your favorite song on there?"

Paige's heart had hammered as she typed back. They'd gone back and forth for a few minutes about music before Princess had to move on to other comments, but something had shifted. Princess A had seen her. Not just as a username in a sea of usernames, but as a person.

Over the next few weeks, Paige became a regular. She'd comment on Princess A's new nail color, ask thoughtful questions about the art prints on her wall, make jokes that actually landed. And Princess started responding more frequently, sometimes even seeking out Paige's username in the chat.

"Where's BigDaddy tonight?" Princess had asked once, scanning the viewer list. "Oh, there you are. Hey, you. Thought you were standing me up."

Never, Paige had typed, and meant it.

She knew it was parasocial. Knew that Princess probably said similar things to other subscribers, that this was her job, her performance. But there was something in the way Princess's smile reached her eyes when she responded to Paige's comments. Something that felt real.

Paige found herself thinking about Princess A during the day. Wondering what she was doing when she wasn't streaming. If she was in school too. If she liked basketball. If she'd ever dated someone who'd broken her heart so thoroughly that she'd built walls around it.

She knew she was getting in too deep. But she couldn't stop.

It was a Thursday night, four weeks after Paige had first subscribed, when Princess made an announcement. She was wearing a silk robe, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, looking relaxed and gorgeous.

"Okay, so I'm doing something special," Princess A said, leaning toward the camera. "A giveaway for my subscribers. One of you is going to win a private session with me. One full hour, just you and me. We can do whatever you want – talk, play games, or..." She trailed off with a suggestive smile. "Well, you know. Whatever feels right."

The chat went absolutely feral.

Princess laughed, holding up her hands. "All you have to do is comment with your favorite thing about these streams. I'll pick a winner at random on Saturday. And whoever wins..." Her eyes seemed to look directly through the screen, directly at Paige. "I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Paige's fingers moved before her brain could catch up.

My favorite thing is that you make this feel real. Like we're actually connecting, not just performing for each other.

She hit send and watched the comment disappear into the flood of responses. Princess wouldn't see it. There were too many people, too much noise.

But then Princess's eyes caught on something, and she went still. Her smile softened into something Paige couldn't quite name.

"Hmmm," Princess hummed quietly. "One of you... yeah. That's exactly it."

Paige's breath caught.

She was so fucked.

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The notification came on Saturday afternoon while Paige was at the gym.

Congratulations! You've won the private session giveaway. Check your DMs for scheduling details.

Paige nearly dropped her phone on the court. Her hands were shaking as she opened the message, reading the instructions about setting up the private video call. They'd settled on Sunday night at 9 PM – late enough that Azzi's roommate would be out, private enough that they wouldn't be interrupted.

Paige had twenty-four hours to prepare. Twenty-four hours to figure out what the fuck she was going to say when she had the girl of her dreams all to herself.

She didn't sleep that night.

By Sunday evening, Paige had changed her shirt three times, which was ridiculous because this was a video call, not an actual date. But she wanted to look good. Wanted Princess to see her and think... what? That she was worth the time? That she was different from the other subscribers?

At 8:57 PM, Paige sat at her desk, laptop open, camera angled just right. Her room was clean – she'd spent an hour making sure nothing embarrassing was visible in the background. The link Princess A had sent sat in her browser, cursor hovering over it.

Three minutes.

Paige's heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. This was insane. She was paying for this. Princess was working. This wasn't real, no matter how much it felt like it could be.

But then she thought about the way Princess A had said her username. The way she'd smiled when Paige made her laugh. The way she'd looked for her in the chat.

At exactly 9:00 PM, Paige clicked the link.

The screen loaded, and there she was, in what looked like her bedroom, wearing a black silk camisole that made Paige's mouth go dry. Her hair was down, falling in loose waves over her shoulders. She was adjusting her camera, not looking at the screen yet, and Paige had a moment to just... look at her.

But what struck Paige first was the mask. A delicate black lace mask that covered the upper half of her face, leaving only her eyes visible – warm brown eyes framed by dark lashes that crinkled slightly at the corners. Below the mask, her lips were bare and perfect, her dimples visible as she concentrated on the camera angle.

Then she glanced up at the screen, and her entire expression changed. Her eyes went wide – Paige could see the surprise in them, the way they widened with shock. Her lips parted in surprise.

She leaned closer to the camera, as if she needed to make sure she was seeing correctly.

"You're," she started, then stopped. Her eyes blinked behind the mask. "You're a woman."

Paige felt heat crawl up her neck. She reached up self-consciously to adjust her own mask – a simple black one that covered the upper half of her face, leaving her eyes and mouth visible. "Yeah. Is that – is that a problem?"

"No! No, not at all, I just – “ Princess laughed, a little breathless, and Paige could see her lips curve into a smile around the edges of the mask. She ran a hand through her hair, the movement graceful. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I just assumed... the username, and the way you – I just thought you were a guy."

Paige felt some of her nervousness ease at Princess A's flustered reaction. She couldn't help but smile, and she knew Princess could see it in her eyes, in the way her mouth curved. "BigDaddyBuckets?" She could hear the amusement in her own voice. "Yeah, I get that. It's actually a joke from high school. I played basketball, and my teammates started calling me that because I'd sink three-pointers and talk shit about it. The 'Big Daddy' part was because I was cocky as hell on the court."

Dark eyes crinkled at the corners – she was smiling wider now, and Paige could see the full curve of her lips, the dimples deepening. "Basketball, huh? That tracks, actually. You've got that confidence." She tilted her head, studying Paige through the screen, her brown eyes taking in every detail. "So, BigDaddy. Do you want me to call you that? Or..." Her voice dropped, took on a teasing edge, and Paige watched her lips form the words carefully. "Do you want me to call you daddy?"

Paige's breath caught. The way she said it – playful but with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity – sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

"I don't know," Paige admitted, her voice rougher than she intended. "I've never really thought about it. Daddy, mommy..." She shook her head. "I just want you to do what feels natural. What feels right to you."

Something shifted in her expression. The playfulness was still there, but underneath it was something deeper. Something real.

"What feels right to me," she repeated softly. She leaned back in her chair, and the movement made the silk of her camisole shift, revealing the curve of her collarbone. "You know what feels right? This. Talking to you like this. Not performing, just being."

"That's what I wanted," Paige said. "When I entered the giveaway. I just wanted to talk to you. Really talk to you."

The brunette's smile was almost shy. "We have an hour. We can do whatever you want."

The weight of that offer hung between them. An hour. Sixty minutes of her undivided attention. Paige could ask for anything – could ask Azzi to strip, to touch herself, to perform the way she did for the public streams.

But that wasn't what Paige wanted.

"Tell me about you," Paige said. "The real you. Not the cam girl version."

Princess A's eyes softened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And just like that, the tension transformed into something else. Something intimate and charged and entirely theirs.

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The first day of fall semester, Paige walked into her Sports Psychology class fifteen minutes early. She liked to scope out the room, pick a good seat – middle row, aisle access, close enough to hear but not so close the professor would call on her constantly.

She was scanning for the perfect spot when she saw her.

Princess A.

Sitting three rows back, near the window, her dark curls catching the late afternoon light. She was scrolling through her phone, completely unaware that she'd just stopped Paige's heart.

Paige's feet moved on autopilot, carrying her to a seat two rows behind and to the left – close enough to see her, far enough not to be obvious. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out her laptop. This couldn't be real. What were the odds?

She looked different in person. Not worse, just... more. More real, more tangible, more perfect. She was wearing an oversized hoodie and leggings, her face bare of the makeup she wore for streams. Somehow, that made her even more beautiful.

As the classroom filled, Paige tried to focus on literally anything else. The syllabus. The professor's introduction. The course requirements. But her eyes kept drifting back to her, cataloging every detail. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The way she bit her bottom lip when she was concentrating. The way her leg bounced slightly when she was thinking.

Paige knew all these things already. Had memorized them through a screen over weeks of watching, of talking, of falling.

When the professor asked them to introduce themselves to the person next to them, Paige's heart nearly stopped. But she turned to the guy on her right, not to Paige. Relief and disappointment warred in her chest.

The class felt like it lasted forever and ended too soon. When the professor dismissed them, Paige watched Princess A pack up her things, watched her sling her bag over her shoulder. This was it. She could let her walk away, keep being two separate people in her world. Or she could –

"Hey."

The word came out before Paige could stop it. She turned, and up close, she was even more breathtaking. Her eyes – those eyes Paige had stared at through a screen – met hers, and there was a flicker of something. Recognition? Confusion?

"Hey," Princess said, her voice doing something to Paige's insides. It was even more perfect in person. "Do I – have we met before?"

"I don't think so," Paige lied, and hated herself for it. "I'm Paige. I just wanted to say, if you ever want to study together or whatever, I'm usually pretty good at this stuff."

Her smile was warm, genuine. "Azzi. And yeah, that'd be cool. Your voice sounds really familiar, though. Are you sure we haven't – “

"Pretty sure I'd remember meeting you," Paige said, and that at least was true.

They exchanged numbers. Paige tried not to think about how she already had a way to contact Azzi – through the cam site's messaging system. Tried not to think about how she was lying by omission with every word.

Over the next two weeks, they studied together twice. Got coffee once. Talked about everything except the one thing Paige couldn't stop thinking about. Azzi kept saying her voice was familiar, kept looking at her like she was trying to solve a puzzle. And Paige kept deflecting, kept being two different people, kept falling harder with every conversation.

She couldn't do this anymore.

"Hey," Paige said after their third study session, her heart hammering. "Do you want to get dinner sometime? Like, not a study thing. A date thing."

Azzi's eyes widened slightly, then softened. "Yeah. I'd really like that."

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The restaurant was nicer than anywhere Paige usually went – white tablecloths, soft lighting, the kind of place where you had to actually try. Azzi showed up in a black dress that made Paige forget how to breathe, her hair falling in waves over her bare shoulders.

They ordered wine. Made small talk. Laughed about their professor's terrible dad jokes. And with every minute that passed, Paige felt the weight of her secret pressing harder against her chest.

"Azzi," Paige said finally, setting down her glass. "I need to tell you something."

Something in her tone made Azzi go still. "Okay."

"I'm BigDaddyBuckets5."

The words hung in the air between them. Azzi blinked, her expression cycling through confusion, realization, shock.

"You're – “ Azzi's voice was barely a whisper. "You're BigDaddy?"

"Yeah." Paige's hands were shaking. "I've been subscribed to your channel for months. I won that private session. I've been watching you, talking to you, falling for you through a screen. And then I walked into that classroom and there you were, and I fell for you all over again. As Azzi. As the girl who bites her lip when she's thinking and bounces her leg when she's nervous and has the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard."

Azzi was staring at her, eyes wide, lips parted.

"I should have told you sooner," Paige continued, the words tumbling out now. "I know that. But I need you to know – I don't care about your work. I don't care that you're a cam girl. I only care that you're happy. That you're safe. That you're taken care of. That's all I've ever cared about."

"Paige – “

"I fell for you twice," Paige said, her voice breaking. "Once as BigDaddy, and once as me. And both times, it was real. Both times, it was you."

Azzi was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching Paige's face. Then, slowly, she reached across the table and took Paige's hand.

"I picked you," Azzi said softly. "Out of all the comments, all the usernames, I picked yours. I looked for you in the chat. I wanted you to win that giveaway." Her thumb traced circles on Paige's palm. "And then I met you in class, and I couldn't figure out why you felt so familiar. Why your voice made me feel safe. Why I wanted to tell you things I don't tell anyone."

"Azzi – “

"I was scared," Azzi admitted. "Scared that if you knew, you'd think of me differently. That you'd only see the cam girl, not... me."

"I see you," Paige said fiercely. "All of you. And I want all of you."

Azzi's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I want that too. I want you. Both versions of you. BigDaddy and Paige. I want them to be the same person, because that person is – “ She laughed, a little breathless. "That person is everything."

Paige stood, moved around the table, and kissed her. Right there in the restaurant, with half-finished wine and an audience they didn't care about. Azzi kissed her back like she'd been waiting for this, like she'd been falling too.

When they finally pulled apart, Azzi was smiling through tears.

"Take me home," she whispered against Paige's lips. "Please."

Paige didn't need to be asked twice.

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They barely made it through Paige's apartment door before Azzi was on her. Hands fisting in Paige's shirt, mouth hot and desperate against hers, backing her against the wall with a hunger that made Paige's knees weak. This wasn't the careful, performed sensuality of Azzi's streams. This was raw need, months of tension finally snapping.

"Bedroom," Paige managed between kisses, but Azzi was already pulling her shirt over her head, dropping to her knees right there in the entryway.

"Here," Azzi breathed, looking up at Paige with dark, dilated eyes. Her hands were already working Paige's belt, fingers trembling slightly with urgency. "I need to taste you. Right fucking now."

Paige's head fell back against the wall, her breath coming in short gasps as Azzi's fingers worked her belt buckle, then her zipper. The sound of metal and fabric seemed impossibly loud in the quiet apartment. Azzi dragged her jeans and underwear down in one impatient motion, and the cool air hit Paige's heated skin for only a moment before Azzi's mouth was on her inner thigh.

"Fuck," Paige gasped, her hands instinctively reaching for Azzi's curls.

Azzi kissed her way up slowly, deliberately, her lips soft and warm against Paige's skin. She alternated between gentle kisses and the scrape of her teeth, marking a path that had Paige's hips jerking forward involuntarily. Her hands gripped Paige's thighs, holding her steady against the wall.

"I've thought about this," Azzi murmured against her skin, her breath hot. "Every time you commented. Every time you said my name." Her tongue traced a path higher, so close but not close enough. "I wondered what you'd taste like." Another kiss, higher still. "If you'd let me worship you like this."

"Please," Paige gasped, her hands tangling in Azzi's curls, not pulling, just holding on. "Please, baby, I need – “

Azzi's tongue finally, finally made contact, and Paige's entire body jerked. The sensation was overwhelming – wet heat and perfect pressure exactly where she needed it. Azzi moaned against her, the vibration sending shockwaves through Paige's system, and the sound alone nearly undid her.

"God, Azzi – “ Paige's voice broke as Azzi's tongue circled her clit with perfect pressure, then dipped lower to taste her fully.

Azzi pulled back just enough to speak, her lips glistening. "So fucking wet," she breathed, her voice thick with desire. "God, Paige, you're dripping for me." She looked up, meeting Paige's eyes, and the raw hunger in her expression made Paige's stomach clench. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you want me."

"So bad," Paige managed, her hips rolling forward, seeking more contact. "Need you so fucking bad, Azzi."

Azzi dove back in with renewed hunger, her hands gripping Paige's thighs to hold her steady as she devoured her. She alternated between broad strokes of her tongue and focused attention on Paige's clit, reading every gasp and moan, learning exactly what made Paige's legs shake. Her tongue was relentless, circling and flicking, then dipping lower to taste her fully before returning to that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Paige could feel the pressure building, coiling tight in her belly. Her thighs were trembling, her breath coming in short gasps. "Azzi, fuck, I'm – “

Azzi hummed against her, the vibration pushing Paige closer to the edge. Then she slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right while her mouth continued its relentless assault on her clit.

It was all too much. Paige's orgasm hit like a freight train, pleasure radiating from her core through every nerve ending. She cried out Azzi's name, her hands tightening in those dark curls, holding Azzi against her as she rode out wave after wave. Her hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against Azzi's face, and Azzi took it all, working her through it with single-minded devotion.

But Azzi didn't stop. She gentled her touch but didn't pull away, keeping her fingers inside Paige, keeping her mouth on her, keeping her right on that edge between too much and not enough.

"Again," Azzi murmured, her voice muffled against Paige's pussy. "Give me another one, baby. I want to feel you come on my tongue again."

"Azzi, I can't – “ But her body was already responding, already rolling toward another peak. Azzi added a third finger, stretching her, filling her, while her tongue worked magic on her clit. The stretch burned in the best way, and Paige could feel herself clenching around Azzi's fingers, her body already climbing toward another orgasm.

Azzi's free hand gripped Paige's hip, holding her steady as she fucked her with her fingers, curling them to hit that spot inside that made Paige see stars. Her tongue never stopped moving, circling and flicking Paige's clit with perfect rhythm.

The second orgasm was even more intense than the first, pulling a broken sob from Paige's throat. Her legs gave out, but Azzi caught her, easing her down to the floor, following her down without breaking contact. Paige's back hit the cool hardwood, and Azzi settled between her thighs, still working her with her mouth and fingers.

"So good," Azzi murmured between licks. "You taste so fucking good, Paige. I could do this all night."

Paige was trembling, oversensitive, but she didn't want Azzi to stop. She threaded her fingers through Azzi's curls again, not pulling, just holding her there. "Bedroom," she gasped when she could finally form words. "Now. I need to touch you."

Azzi pressed one last kiss to Paige's clit, making her jerk, before pulling back. Her lips were swollen, glistening with Paige's arousal, and the sight made Paige's stomach clench with renewed desire.

They stumbled down the hallway, pausing every few steps to kiss, to touch, to press each other against the wall. Azzi's dress was unzipped by the time they reached the bedroom door, and Paige pushed it off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.

Azzi stood there in nothing but black lace panties, and Paige took a moment just to look at her. The soft curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. The way her chest was heaving, her skin flushed with arousal.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Paige said, her voice rough. "I've wanted this for so long."

Azzi reached for her, pulling her down onto the bed. They landed in a tangle of limbs, and Azzi kissed her deeply, her tongue sliding against Paige's. Paige could taste herself on Azzi's lips, and the thought made her moan into the kiss.

"Then take me," Azzi whispered against Paige's lips. "I'm yours. I've been yours since that first comment."

Paige kissed her way down Azzi's body, worshipping every inch of skin. She started at her neck, sucking and biting gently, leaving marks that would bloom purple by morning. Azzi's hands were in her hair, not pulling, just holding her close.

When Paige reached her breasts, she took her time. She circled one nipple with her tongue, then took it into her mouth, sucking hard. Azzi arched off the bed with a gasp, her fingers tightening in Paige's hair.

"Fuck, Paige – “

Paige switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. She alternated between gentle licks and harder suction, learning what made Azzi gasp, what made her moan, what made her hips buck. Her nipples were sensitive, responsive, hardening into tight peaks under Paige's attention.

"Please," Azzi whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed. "Paige, please, I need – “

"I know baby," Paige murmured, hooking her fingers in Azzi's panties and dragging them down. The fabric was soaked through, and Paige could see the evidence of Azzi's arousal glistening on her thighs. "I'm gonna give you everything."

Azzi was gorgeous like this – spread out on Paige's bed, her skin flushed, her chest heaving, her pussy glistening with arousal. Paige settled between her thighs, breathing in the scent of her, and then she was tasting her, finally tasting her, and it was better than anything she'd imagined.

The first touch of her tongue made Azzi's back arch off the bed, a high keen escaping her throat. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, Paige – “

Paige explored her thoroughly, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her thighs tremble. She was so wet, so responsive, her body opening for Paige like she'd been made for this. Paige traced her tongue through Azzi's folds, tasting her fully, before focusing on her clit.

Azzi's hands fisted in the sheets, her hips rolling against Paige's face. "Don't stop, please don't stop – “

Paige had no intention of stopping. She circled Azzi's clit with her tongue, then flicked it rapidly, alternating the pressure and rhythm until Azzi was writhing beneath her. When she slid two fingers inside her, Azzi clenched around them immediately, her pussy hot and tight and so fucking wet.

"More," Azzi begged, her hands fisting in the sheets. "Please, I can take more, I need – “

Paige added a third finger, stretching her, filling her, while her tongue worked Azzi's clit in tight circles. Azzi's moans grew louder, more desperate, her hips grinding against Paige's face. The obscene sounds of Paige's fingers sliding in and out filled the room, mixing with Azzi's gasps and moans.

"That's it," Paige encouraged, pulling back just enough to speak. "Fuck my face, baby. Take what you need."

Azzi did, her movements becoming erratic as she chased her release. Her thighs clamped around Paige's head, and Paige could feel how close she was – the way her pussy was clenching rhythmically around her fingers, the way her clit was swollen and sensitive under her tongue.

When she came, she screamed Paige's name, her entire body going taut before dissolving into tremors. Paige worked her through it, gentling her touch but not stopping, keeping her right on that edge.

"Again," Paige said, her voice firm. "You're gonna come for me again."

"Please mommy," she whined. "Please make me come again – “ Azzi's body was already responding, already climbing toward another peak.

Paige curled her fingers, finding that spot inside that made Azzi see stars, while her thumb worked her clit. She could feel Azzi's pussy clenching around her fingers, could feel how wet she was, could hear the obscene sounds of her arousal.

"Come on baby," Paige said, her voice low and commanding. "You're gonna give me another one, and then another one after that. I want to see how many times I can make you come."

Azzi's second orgasm hit harder than the first, her pussy clenching rhythmically around Paige's fingers, her thighs clamping around Paige's head. She was sobbing now, overwhelmed with pleasure, her body hypersensitive.

Paige finally pulled back, pressing soft kisses to Azzi's inner thighs as she withdrew her fingers. Azzi was trembling, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and damp with sweat.

"Please," she gasped when she could finally speak. "Please, I need you. I need to feel you."

They shifted positions, Azzi climbing into Paige's lap, straddling her thigh. Paige could feel how wet she was, could feel her grinding down, seeking friction.

"Like this," Azzi breathed, positioning herself so her pussy was pressed directly against Paige's thigh. She started to move, rolling her hips, riding Paige's thigh with desperate need. "Oh god, I can feel you, I can feel – “

Paige gripped Azzi's hips, helping her move, guiding her rhythm. With her other hand, she reached between them, her fingers finding Azzi's clit, adding pressure exactly where she needed it.

"You look so fucking good like this," Paige said, watching Azzi's face contort with pleasure. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, her head thrown back. "Riding me, using me, taking what you need. You're perfect, baby. So perfect."

Azzi's movements became frantic, chasing her third orgasm. Paige could feel the wetness spreading on her thigh, could feel how swollen and sensitive Azzi's clit was under her fingers. She increased the pressure, circling faster, and Azzi's rhythm faltered.

"Come for me," Paige commanded. "Let me feel it."

Azzi came with a broken cry, her body shaking, her pussy clenching against Paige's thigh. She collapsed forward, her forehead pressed against Paige's shoulder, her body trembling with the intensity of it.

But even as she came down, Azzi was already moving again, her hips rolling, seeking more. "More," she whispered against Paige's skin. "Please, I need more. I need you to fuck me again."

Paige laid her down, spreading her thighs wide. She slid three fingers back inside her, and Azzi was so wet that they slid in easily. Then she added a fourth, stretching her, filling her completely. Azzi's back arched, a broken moan escaping her lips.

"Yes, yes, fuck, just like that – “

Paige fucked her hard and deep, her thumb working Azzi's clit, watching her fall apart. Azzi was so wet that Paige could hear it, could hear the obscene sounds of her fingers sliding in and out, could feel how Azzi's body gripped her, trying to pull her deeper.

"You're taking me so well," Paige murmured, her voice low and rough. "Look at you, baby. Look at how well you're taking my fingers. You're so fucking beautiful like this."

Azzi's eyes were glazed, her mouth open, her breath coming in short gasps. "I'm gonna come again," she gasped, her eyes rolling back. "Oh god, mommy, I'm – “

"Come for me," Paige commanded. "Let me feel it."

Azzi's fourth orgasm was the most intense yet, her entire body convulsing, her pussy clenching so hard around Paige's fingers that it almost hurt. She screamed, tears streaming down her face, completely overwhelmed.

Paige gentled her touch, slowly withdrawing her fingers, pressing soft kisses to Azzi's thighs, her stomach, her breasts. "You did so good, baby. So fucking good."

But Azzi was already reaching for her, pulling her up into a desperate kiss. "Your turn," she breathed. "Wanna make you come again. Please, let me – “

"Azzi, you don't have to – “

"I want to," Azzi insisted, her eyes bright and determined. "I need to. Please, mommy. Let me take care of you."

Paige nodded, and Azzi positioned herself between Paige's legs. But this time, she didn't use her mouth. She pressed her pussy against Paige's, grinding down, their clits making contact in a way that made them both cry out.

"Fuck," Paige gasped, her hips lifting to meet Azzi's movements. "Azzi, holy shit – “

"I want to come with you," Azzi panted, her movements becoming more desperate. "I want to feel you come while I'm coming, I want – “

They found a rhythm together, grinding against each other, their wetness mixing, the friction perfect and overwhelming. Paige could feel Azzi's clit sliding against hers, could feel how close they both were. The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever felt – the direct contact, the heat, the wetness, the way their bodies moved together.

"Together," Paige managed, her hands gripping Azzi's hips. "Come with me, baby. Right now."

They came together, their bodies locked in perfect synchronization, pleasure crashing over them in waves. Azzi collapsed on top of Paige, both of them trembling, gasping for air, completely spent.

For a long moment, they just lay there, tangled together, hearts racing, skin slick with sweat. Paige could feel Azzi's heartbeat against her chest, could feel the rise and fall of her breathing, could feel the weight of her body pressing her into the mattress.

Then Azzi lifted her head, pressing a soft kiss to Paige's lips. "I love you," she whispered. "I know we've only known each other for a couple of months, I know we just – but I do. I love you."

Paige's chest tightened, emotion overwhelming her. "I love you too," she said, her voice breaking. "God, Azzi, I love you so much."

They held each other as their breathing slowly returned to normal, as the tremors subsided, as reality settled back in around them. But nothing felt real except this – the weight of Azzi in her arms, the taste of her still on Paige's lips, the knowledge that they'd finally found each other.

All of each other.

🖤🎧💻🎥🖤🎧💻🎥🖤🎧💻🎥🖤

They shifted eventually, Paige pulling the blanket over them both, Azzi curling into her side like she belonged there. Her head rested on Paige's chest, right over her heart, and Paige's fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine. The room was quiet except for their breathing, the distant sound of traffic outside, the gentle hum of the world continuing on while theirs had fundamentally changed.

"Can I tell you something?" Azzi's voice was soft, almost hesitant.

"Anything," Paige murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Azzi was quiet for a moment, her fingers drawing circles on Paige's stomach. "I picked you on purpose. For the giveaway."

Paige's hand stilled. "What?"

"BigDaddyBuckets5." Azzi lifted her head, meeting Paige's eyes in the dim light. "Out of all the comments, all the entries, I chose yours. It wasn't random."

Paige's heart was suddenly hammering again. "Why?"

"Because you saw me," Azzi said simply. "Not just the performance, not just the body or the fantasy. You saw me. You asked about my music, my books, the things that made me who I am beyond the camera." She bit her lip, vulnerability written across her face. "I was hoping someone strong would see me like that. Someone confident enough to look past the surface. Someone who'd validate that I'm a real person, not just... content."

"Azzi – “

"I know it sounds pathetic," Azzi continued, her voice wavering. "I know I was basically hoping for a fantasy version of connection. But then you won, and you were a woman, and you were so genuine, and I thought maybe – “ She laughed, a little broken. "Maybe this could be something real."

Paige cupped her face, thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. "It's not pathetic. And it is real. This is the realest thing I've ever felt."

"When I met you in class," Azzi whispered, "I kept thinking your voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it. And then I'd go home and talk to BigDaddy, and I'd feel this pull toward both of you. Like I was falling for two people at once." She shook her head, smiling through her tears. "I'm so fucking relieved you're the same person. That I don't have to choose. That the girl who saw me through a screen and the girl who asked me to coffee are both you."

"I was terrified to tell you," Paige admitted. "Terrified you'd think I was some creep who'd been lying to you. That you'd feel betrayed."

"I don't," Azzi said firmly. "I feel... found. Like all the pieces finally fit together." She pressed a kiss to Paige's jaw, then her lips. "You're BigDaddy and you're Paige, and I love both versions of you. I love all of you."

They were quiet for a moment, just breathing together. Then Paige's voice came, careful and curious. "Can I ask you something? About the cam work?"

Azzi tensed slightly, but didn't pull away. "Yeah. Of course."

"Why did you start?" Paige's fingers resumed their gentle path along Azzi's spine. "I mean – you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But I want to know you. All of you. And that's part of your life."

Azzi was quiet for a long moment, her breath warm against Paige's collarbone. When she finally spoke, her voice was measured, like she was choosing each word carefully.

"I started because I needed money," she said. "That's the practical answer. Student loans, rent, groceries – all of it adds up fast. I was working at a coffee shop, but the hours were shit and the pay was worse." She paused. "But that's not the whole truth."

Paige waited, her hand never stopping its soothing motion.

"I also started because I wanted control," Azzi continued, her voice gaining strength. "Over my body, over how people saw me, over what I was willing to give and what I kept for myself. I'd been in relationships where I felt like I was performing anyway – like I had to be a certain way to be wanted. At least with camming, I got to decide the terms. I got to be desired on my own conditions."

"That makes sense," Paige said softly.

"Does it?" Azzi lifted her head, searching Paige's face. "Or does it sound like I'm trying to justify something I'm ashamed of?"

"Are you ashamed of it?"

Azzi's brow furrowed. "Sometimes. Not always. It depends on the day, on who's watching, on how I'm feeling about myself." She bit her lip. "I like the creative control. I like that I get to curate everything – the lighting, the music, what I wear, what I do. It feels like art sometimes. Like I'm creating this aesthetic experience that happens to be sensual."

"I felt that," Paige said. "When I first found your channel. It didn't feel... I don't know, exploitative? It felt like you were inviting people into this carefully crafted world. Like you were sharing something beautiful."

Azzi's eyes softened. "That's exactly what I want it to be." She settled back against Paige's chest. "But it's complicated. Because even when I have control, I'm still performing for the male gaze most of the time. Even when I'm setting the boundaries, I'm still commodifying my body. And some days that feels empowering, and some days it feels exhausting."

"What are your boundaries?" Paige asked. "Like, what are you comfortable with and what's off-limits?"

Azzi appreciated the directness of the question. "I don't do explicit nudity on the public streams. Lingerie, yes. Suggestive, yes. But I keep some things private. The mask stays on – always. I never show my full face because I need that separation between who I am online and who I am in real life." She paused. "In private sessions, I'll do more. But I have a list of hard nos. No degradation, no race play, no anything that makes me feel unsafe or disrespected. And I can end a session at any time if someone crosses a line."

"Has anyone ever crossed a line?"

"A few times," Azzi admitted. "But I have moderators, and I'm quick to block people. The platform I use is pretty good about protecting creators. It's not perfect, but it's better than some."

Paige's jaw tightened. "I hate that you've had to deal with that."

"It comes with the territory," Azzi said quietly. "But that's part of why your comments meant so much. You never asked for anything. You never made demands or tried to push me. You just... saw me. Appreciated me. Made me feel like a person instead of a product."

"You are a person," Paige said fiercely. "You're a whole fucking person, Azzi. Smart and creative and funny and kind. The cam work is something you do, not who you are."

Azzi's throat tightened. "I needed to hear that."

They were quiet again, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then Azzi spoke, her voice smaller. "Do you think less of me? For doing it?"

"No." Paige's answer was immediate and certain. "I think you're brave as hell. I think you're doing what you need to do to survive and thrive, and you're doing it on your own terms. That's not something to be ashamed of."

"But you were jealous," Azzi said, not accusatory, just observant. "When you were watching. I could tell."

Paige exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I was. Not of the work itself, but of the fact that other people got to see you like that. Got to witness something that felt... intimate. Even though I knew it was a performance, it still felt like they were getting a piece of you that I wanted to be mine."

"And now?" Azzi asked.

"Now I know that what we have is different," Paige said. "What you showed me tonight – that wasn't a performance. That was real. And I get to have that. I get to have you, all of you, in a way no subscriber ever will."

Azzi's eyes softened. "You do. You have all of me, Paige. Every part."

"Can I ask you something else?" Paige's voice was gentle.

"Yeah."

"How does it affect how you feel about yourself? About your body?"

Azzi was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the lines of Paige's collarbone. "It's complicated," she finally said. "Some days, I feel powerful. Like I'm in control of my sexuality and my image, and that feels good. I feel beautiful and desired and confident."

"And other days?"

"Other days, I feel like a commodity," Azzi admitted, her voice cracking slightly. "Like my worth is tied to how many subscribers I have or how many tips I get. Like if I'm not performing, if I'm not being desirable, then I'm not valuable. And that fucks with my head."

Paige's arms tightened around her. "Your value has nothing to do with any of that. You're valuable because you're you. Because you're brilliant and talented and you make the world better just by being in it."

"I'm working on believing that," Azzi whispered. "My therapist and I talk about it a lot. About separating my self-worth from external validation. About remembering that I'm more than my body, more than what people see."

"You are," Paige said firmly. "You're so much more."

Azzi lifted her head again, meeting Paige's eyes. "What did it feel like for you? Watching me, I mean. Before you knew me in real life."

Paige considered the question carefully. "Honestly? It was a mix of things. Arousal, obviously. You're gorgeous, and watching you was... intense. But there was also this protectiveness. Like I wanted to make sure you were okay, that you were safe, that no one was taking advantage of you." She paused. "And there was longing. I wanted to know you. Really know you. Not just the version you showed on camera, but the person behind it."

"And when you found out we had class together?"

"I was terrified," Paige admitted. "Terrified you'd find out and think I was a creep. Terrified I'd fuck it up somehow. But also... hopeful. Because I got to see that the person I'd been drawn to online was even more incredible in real life."

Azzi's smile was soft and genuine. "I'm glad you took the chance. I'm glad you asked me out."

"Me too." Paige pressed a kiss to her forehead. "So what happens now? With the cam work, I mean. Do you want to keep doing it?"

Azzi sighed. "I don't know. Part of me wants to stop because I don't need it the same way anymore. I've built up savings, and I'm doing okay financially. But part of me isn't ready to give it up because it's been a source of income and independence for so long."

"You don't have to decide right now," Paige said. "And whatever you decide, I support you. If you want to keep doing it, I'm okay with that. If you want to stop, I'm okay with that too. This is your choice, Azzi. Your body, your life, your decision."

"What if it bothers you?" Azzi asked quietly. "What if you say you're okay with it now, but later it becomes a problem?"

"Then we'll talk about it," Paige said. "We'll communicate. We'll figure it out together. But I'm not gonna ask you to give up something that's important to you just because I'm insecure. That's not fair to you."

Azzi's eyes searched Paige's face. "You really mean that."

"I really do." Paige's voice was steady and sure. "I trust you, Azzi. I trust that you'll set boundaries that feel right for you. And I trust that we can navigate this together."

"I think I want to scale back," Azzi said slowly, like she was testing the words out loud. "Maybe just do a few streams a month instead of several a week. Keep the financial cushion but not make it my whole life. Does that sound reasonable?"

"It sounds like you're taking care of yourself," Paige said. "And that's all I want for you."

Azzi buried her face in Paige's neck, breathing her in. "I was so scared to have this conversation. I thought you'd judge me or try to make me stop or... I don't know. I thought it would change how you see me."

"The only thing that's changed is that I understand you better," Paige said. "And I love you more for trusting me with this."

"I love you," Azzi whispered. "God, Paige, I love you so much. Thank you for seeing me. All of me."

"Always," Paige promised, her voice thick with emotion. "I'll always see you, Azzi. Every part of you. The cam girl and the college student and the girl who bites her lip when she's thinking and the girl who just gave me the best night of my life. All of it. All of you."

They held each other in the quiet darkness, the weight of their conversation settling into something solid and real. Outside, the world kept turning. But here, in this bed, they'd built something neither of them had been looking for but both desperately needed.

Trust. Understanding. Love that saw every part and chose to stay anyway.

"Can I tell you one more thing?" Azzi asked after a long silence.

"Anything."

"When you were watching me – when you were BigDaddyBuckets5 – I used to imagine it was different. That you weren't just a subscriber, but someone who actually knew me. Someone who wanted me for more than just the performance." She paused. "And now you are. You're that person. And it feels like everything I was hoping for finally came true."

Paige's chest ached with the sweetness of it. "I'm so fucking glad I clicked on your channel that night. I'm so glad the algorithm led me to you."

"Me too," Azzi said, smiling against Paige's skin. "Me too."

They settled into each other again, limbs tangled, hearts aligned. The conversation had been heavy, but it had also been necessary. They'd laid everything bare – the complicated parts, the vulnerable parts, the parts that were hard to talk about. And they'd come through it stronger, more connected, more certain of what they had.

"I'm keeping you," Azzi declared softly, echoing her earlier words. "BigDaddyBuckets5 is officially off the market."

"Good," Paige murmured, kissing her softly. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

They settled back into each other, limbs tangled, hearts aligned. Outside, the world kept turning. But here, in this bed, in this moment, they'd found something neither of them had been looking for but both desperately needed.

Each other. Finally, completely, irrevocably each other.

“Can I make love to you tonight?”  

Azzi couldn’t remember the last time her body ignited fire. The burning desire reawakened and all her senses heightened. She had never been more alive in the past two years. Paige’s question felt music in her ears. She was rendered speechless, afraid to voice out her answer.

She supposed she didn’t have to say it.   

She could show it.   

Azzi reached up and gently cradled Paige’s face in her hand. She lightly caressed the skin around the tiny cuts from the shattered glasses from the earlier event. She looked at Paige’s lips, soft and slightly parted. 

Her thumb slowly brushed near Paige’s mouth. She could feel the blonde holding her breath, intently watching her. 

Her eyes traveled up to Paige’s nose, pink from the cold midnight air despite the fire crackling in the fireplace.   

Then her gaze reached Paige’s eyes. The blue looked almost unreal in the dim room. She could see how Paige’s eyes were full of excitement, curiosity, fear, and love. All of these evident by the orange glow flickered from the fire nearby.

She could feel Paige was waiting for her answer. Her next move.  

This was making Azzi’s head spin. It felt like she was also making herself wait. The anticipation of what would happen next was driving her insane.

And so, she nodded.  

Slowly at first.   

Then a clear, firm nod followed.  

She didn’t wait for Paige to ask what she meant, Azzi cupped her face and pulled it to hers.  

She let the years of grief and longing crash into this single moment. It caught Paige off guard that she instinctively placed her good hand on Azzi’s arm.   

Their first kiss after Alina’s passing.  

After their divorce.  

The first brush of Paige’s lips agaisnt hers made Azzi’s breath leave her all at once. It was like drowning and finally coming up for air at the same time. The kiss felt hesitant, awkward at first. But Azzi could feel everything inside her finally waking up. 

For a brief second, they pulled a part to check if they were both still on the same page. Their half-lidded eyes and shaky breaths answered all the questions they had in their minds. 

And like magnets snapping together, their lips came crashing almost desperately in full force. Azzi didn’t know who moaned first, but it sounded sweet, and it fueled more fire within her.

Azzi pulled Paige closer but due to their position, it only limited how close they could actually get. This made her let out a disgruntled whine at how far Paige was even when they were practically beside each other on the couch.

Paige heard her and knew what she wanted. She grabbed Azzi by her waist and pulled her on her lap. Azzi struggled to position her legs because she didn’t want to break the kiss. It took a few seconds for her to straddle Paige’s thighs. But once she was fully situated, she wrapped her arms around the blonde’s neck and kissed her fully.

Paige kissed back with the same intensity, pulling Azzi as close as possible.   

They melted into one.   

Azzi could taste all the sorrows, heartbreak, longing, apologies, and regrets from Paige’s kisses. It was terrifying to feel every pain her ex-wife had just from the way she kissed her. It made her want to protect Paige from all the hurt the years had caused her.

Tears slipped down Azzi’s cheeks before she even noticed them. It was so overwhelming that she didn’t let Paige stop kissing her the moment she felt the blonde notice her crying.   

“No!” Azzi held onto Paige’s head tighter. “Don’t stop.”  

Paige complied and kissed her even more deeply.  

It became messy and Paige started kissing the underside of her jaw, moving down to her neck. She nipped a part a skin, causing Azzi to gasp and buck her hips.   

Azzi’s body was so soft and delicate, Paige wanted to drown in her.   

They were lost in each other that kissing no longer felt like enough. They wanted more.  

The fire inside Azzi was determined to burn her. It wanted to scorch every part of her skin. She didn’t know what to do with it, but she found herself languidly rolling her hips down on Paige.  

Paige groaned the moment Azzi started a rhythm. Her lips pressed harder against Azzi’s pulse point, bucking up to meet Azzi’s grind. Her hand slid beneath her ex-wife's shirt, fingertips grazing warm skin before she left Azzi’s neck to pull her shirt over her head. 

The illuminating fire made it look like Azzi’s silhouette was scupted by a god.  

And maybe it was.  

Paige could see how beautiful Azzi was, out of breath and lips swollen with how hard it was kissed.   

Azzi’s deep breaths made it harder for Paige to think clearly on what to do next. She was fixated on the way she could feel Azzi’s burning desire.

And Azzi was determined to make it known she wanted this.   

She slipped off Paige’s lap just long enough to remove her running shorts. Paige’s eyes followed every movement and watched in awe as Azzi straddled back onto her lap.   

She could feel the dampness from Azzi’s underwear even through her jogger pants.   

“Take me here.” Azzi looked into Paige’s eyes as she whispered her request. She watched as it changed its color to the darkest shade of blue, almost going black.  

Paige stood smoothly, lifting Azzi carefully and laying her on the couch. Their eyes never left each other as Paige stripped down to her sports bra and boxer shorts.   

Azzi’s breath hitched as she took in Paige’s physique. Muscles on her arms and abdomen. Her tongue darted across her lower lip before she even realized what she was doing. 

It made Paige chuckle before moving in between Azzi’s legs.

Paige ran her good hand along Azzi’s right leg, stopping just at the edge of her underwear. It had been too long and she was not in the mood for teasing. Azzi canted her hips, unable to resist.

“Please.”  

“I know, baby.” Paige slid her hand inside and immediately moaned at the feeling of Azzi’s wetness. “Fuck, Az.”  

Azzi canted her hips even more, impatiently.  

“Wait, baby. I want to make this last.” Paige said, out of breath from being so turned on.   

“We have all night, Paige.” Azzi’s voice was desperate, but she meant it. “You have me all night.”  

It released all of Paige’s inhibitions, and she surged forward to kiss Azzi. The kiss was messy. Azzi moaned when she felt Paige put pressure on her swollen bud.   

The blonde kissed her frantically. Her lips, chin, the underside of her jaw. She kissed her way down to her neck, to the valley between her breasts, to her toned stomach. All while smearing Azzi's own wetness all over her pussy.   

“Paige —”  

Paige took greatt satisfaction of knowing she could still make Azzi moan her name. She was determined to make her scream it the whole night.    

She caught the tip of the waistband of Azzi’s underwear between her teeth and pulled it down, momentarily leaving her soaked pussy. Azzi helped her get the piece of clothing out of her legs.  

Paige took in the sight of her ex-wife, disheveled and waiting to be fucked. All hers for tonight.  

She moved to where Azzi had been waiting for her, taking in the smell of arousal. She leaned in to kiss her mound.

Azzi’s reaction was a long, satisfying moan. Her hands instantly grabbed Paige’s hair, both for support and to keep her ex-wife in place. 

The action fueled the need for Paige to make Azzi feel good. She held on Azzi’s thighs as she situated herself to give Azzi a full lick.   

Azzi moaned again, feeling the start of the fire searing through her skin.   

“Fuck!”  

Paige was encouraged with the response and continued to lap Azzi’s pussy. Her thick tongue mapping all over it. Azzi tasted so good. Salty mixed with something sweet.  

Azzi could feel Paige’s tongue drag from her pussy hole up to her clit before sucking her pussy lips hard. She was so reactive that she tilted her hips to Paige’s mouth.   

“God, Paige!” She gripped firmly on Paige’s hair, bringing the blonde’s head closer to her. She didn’t care if Paige would suffocate. “Need you inside, baby.”

Paige’s tongue danced over her hole before sliding inside.   

This broke Azzi and she let out the most beautiful moan Paige heard. She could feel how close Azzi was as the muscles clenched around her tongue, hearing Azzi’s soft cries while chasing that high. 

Paige’s hand moved to rub her thumbs on her ex-wife's clit, determined to make her cum.   

It didn’t take long for Azzi’s body to go rigid. Paige fought the urge to bury her face even more, wanting to prolong Azzi’s orgasm.

It was too much and Azzi had to pull her ex-wife's head off of her. She looked down and was greeted by Paige’s pussy drunk face, lips so wet. Azzi’s eyes traced the spit clinging to the corner of Paige’s mouth, until it ran through her chin. She watched Paige smear it away with her good hand, a teasing grin evident on her face.  

“Are you good?”   

“Yeah.” Azzi forced herself to breathe evenly, fighting to calm her nerves. “Come here.”   

She pulled Paige up toward her and kissed her languidly, tasting herself in the process. She knew Paige was not yet done.   

The blonde kept touching her softly, fingertips traced slow paths across every inch of exposdd skin.

They broke the kiss and stared at each other’s eyes. They took an extra moment to try and settle the nerves buzzing under their skin. The last of their adrenaline stil thrumming through their nerves. 

Paige stroked her hand up Azzi’s thighs, moving higher slowly. She stared right into Azzi’s eyes as she dragged her fingers through Azzi’s wetness, aligning them.  

Azzi’s head tipped back the moment she felt the first inch of the blonde’s fingers. It made her body respond intensely, like Paige was throwing more logs to burn, making the fire insid her grow. It kept burning until she felt full of Paige’s two fingers.  

Her mind dissolving slowly into the heat of her own skin. 

She arched her spine when Paige started to thrust deeper.  

“Baby!”  

“Sshhh. I’m here. You’re good.” Paige peppered her face with kisses, trying to soothe Azzi’s ache of wanting to cum. “You’ve been so good, baby.”

Azzi moaned, nails pressing into Paige's back as she held her close.   

“Faster, please.”  

“I got you, babe.”   

It was so rewarding to be fucked delicately yet desperately. Azzi melted into Paige’s body as she parted her legs further, taking Paige’s onslaught deepera and faster. 

She was so damn close.  

“Harder.” She demanded.  

Paige obliged, happy to have Azzi again like this. She let her body take control with the way she was making love to her ex-wife tonight. 

They would have a very long night. As Azzi promised. 

It didn’t take long before Azzi bucked her hips to meet Paige’s hand. She found the blonde was solely focused on getting her off and it turned her even more, making her even more wet.   

Paige’s thrust faltered for second as she felt more wetness inside Azzi’s pussy.   

“You’re so fucking wet.” Paige groaned. "And tight." 

“Al-most.” Azzi brokenly sobbed.   

One hard thrust and a firm rub on her clit had Azzi writhing in pleasure below Paige. The second orgasm was stronger and more satisfying. Paig’es forehead was pressed into hers, and she could feel the ragged breath against her lips. 

She saw Piage staring right into her eyes. It was too distracting, yet too welcomed.   

This was something they could never go back.   

Would probably do not want to go back.   

Azzi felt herself smiling as she saw contentment in Paige’s eyes, mirroring her own. 

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

Azzi woke up before the sun hadfully risen. Paige’s arm was draped around her, her body warm against Azzi’s back.

She wanted to go back to sleep but this was her last day in the lake house. She would be going back to Hopkins after lunch so she could still make it back to her parents house before it gets dark.   

She thought of postponing her trip home, claiming she was too tired to drive three or four hours after being up all night with Paige.    

They moved to their room after Azzi had Paige squirming in orgasmic bliss on the living room rug in front of the fireplace. 

She lost count how many times they fucked last night. She just knew the sheets needed to be changed. 

There was not a single regret she felt after she slept with her ex-wife last night. But it also didn’t change their non-existent marital status.   

People did one-night stands, after all.  

There was nothing alarming about sleeping with your ex-wife, or whatever she convinced herself to believe in.   

They were still divorced.  

Would they get back together?   

What were the mechanics after sleeping with your ex-wife?  

Did they have to shake hands after?  

“I can hear your thoughts loud and clear.” Paige’s morning voice was a low timbre and seductive.   

Azzi had to close her eyes to remove unwanted thoughts, they just finished their last round a few hours ago. She was too exhausted to even move.   

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”  

Paige’s question sounded so fragile, it pained Azzi hearing her like that. She slowly turned around and faced the blonde, making sure to hold her arm should Paige would try to slip away.  

“No.” Azzi whispered, now fully lost in Paige’s warm blue eyes. They looked peaceful but scared. The last thing she wanted was to scare Paige. They had a wonderful night last night and as much as she wanted to live in it, they had to face the music this morning.   

“Hi.”   

Azzi smiled. “Hello.”  

“Good morning.”  

“Good morning to you too. You look so happy the sun isn’t even up yet.” Azzi whispered.  

If Paige smiled any harder, her face might split into two.  

Azzi giggled at the sight of Paige’s smile, stretching wider by the second. 

“Safe to say I had a really good night.” Paige shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.  

Azzi shook her head at her ex-wife's terrible attempt to brush it off.

“Are you okay?” Paige asked with a worried voice.   

Azzi looked at Paige, considering her answer. The complexities of everything between them were tangled in the reality they needed to face. They both knew one good night didn’t erase two years' worth of heartbreak and pain.  

“I think I’m okay.” Azzi lifted her hand and let her fingertips graze Paige’s temple, gently moving a strand that fell. “I’ve never been better, to be honest.” 

Paige leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut as she exhaled softly. She missed this so much. 

“Am I making you fall back asleep?” Azzi whispered.  

“No.” Paige smiled again, opening her eyes. “I’m just trying to memorize the feeling of your touch. You’re leaving today, right?” 

Azzi’s finger stopped caressing Paige’s face.  

And there it was. The reality of what they buried last night.

“Yes. I’ll leave after lunch.”  

Paige gave an understanding nod. “And your things?”  

“I’m not sure if you remembered Hector from seventh grade Chemistry.” 

“The one who set the chemistry lab on fire?”  

“Okay, first of all, he didn’t set the whole lab on fire. That was an accident.” Azzi reasoned, rolling her eyes. “Second, he saved you a seat once when you were late because you were too busy making out with that blonde cheerleader in the girls bathroom.”

“I was not making out —”  

“Not the point.” Azzi interrupted.  

“Jeez, jealousy is still your weakest trait.” Paige grinned, teasingly.  

Azzi smacked her shoulder in retaliation. “I am not jealous!”  

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. So, Hector?”  

“Ugh!” Azzi considered not telling Paige and just get up to cook breakfast, but she didn’t want to leave the comfort of their bed. She didn’t want to leave the comfort of Paige’s arm wrapped around her waist, which she failed to notice.

Azzi huffed and continued. “He owns a small moving company in Hopkins. I asked him if he can drive up here and take the boxes.”  

“That’s nice of him. Make sure he won’t burn the packages, okay?”  

Azzi hit her again.   

“Ow!”  

“You’re so childish!”  

“And you’re so violent early in the morning.”  

“God! You’re so annoying.” Azzi twisted away, b ut Paige caught her arm and pulled her flush against her chest.   

“You’re not going anywhere, we’re not yet done.”  

Azzi let out a quiet groan before giving in completely. She buried her face into the warm space beneath Paige’s jaw, breathing her in slowly.   

“He’ll be around noon.” Azzi said. “Then, I’ll follow him back to Hopkins.” 

“Do you have to?”   

Azzi closed her eyes, unwilling to accept that Paige just asked that question. They danced around the inevitable for too long. She sighed before moving to lift her head up so she could look at Paige.   

“Paige, you know the answer to that.”   

“You don’t have to, you know.” Paige tried again. She was laying it all for Azzi. A confession that they weren’t prepared to deal with.  

“It’s not that simple.”  

“When has it been?”   

Azzi didn’t know if Paige intentionally asked that, but regardless, she had a life separate from Paige’s.  

She was hired two months ago by a local real estate firm in Hopkins. They were a start-up company and were impressed with Azzi’s background and resume. It was partly why she needed her portfolio and books from her office in the lake house.   

“We had a good night, Paige. I don’t want to ruin it by starting an argument with you today.”  

“I’m just saying, Az.”  

It was by no means Paige wanted to start a fight. She only wanted more time with Azzi. Her desperation was growing thicker, and it was difficult to let Azzi go.   

“You know we can’t, Paige.”  

Defeatedly, Paige sighed. “I know. I just... miss you so much.”  

“Believe me, I missed you too.”  

“Then, why can’t you stay?”  

Azzi’s eyes wandered on Paige’s, committing it to her memory. If there was one thing she would happily take back home to Hopkins, it was this.  

Paige’s beautiful face and how she looked at Azzi like she was everything. 

“Why did you decided to leave me?”   

They never talked about their divorce. They fought about it, yes. They threw petty demands using their lawyers as middlemen. Somewhere in between, they blamed each other for their failed marriage. 

Not Alina’s death.  

Never Alina’s death.  

Paige pushed herself upright, pulling Azzi along with her to sit with her, the duvet lay forgotten on their laps. She reached out and took Azzi’s hands, gently placing a kiss on each one.

"I could bear all your mood swings, your sadness, your cries. It was never about you going crazy or whatever you call it. You weren’t and aren’t crazy by the way, and I still stand by it.” Paige paused and looked at Azzi in the eyes. “I wanted to be there for you, to be your crying shoulder. I wanted to support you in your battle with grief. I wanted to give you everything and take your pain away.”

Azzi waited, holding her breath. She knew there was something about Paige’s revelation that would break her back into pieces.   

“During the fourth month Alina passed, I got home from basketball practice and found you in her room.” Paige continued, not letting go of Azzi’s hands. “You were on the phone with Nika, crying on her bed. I was about to get you water when I heard you say I looked like Alina, how the only thing you can see in my eyes are her eyes. That we have the same curve on our noses, and our smiles look identical. Every little thing about me kept reminding you of her.”  

Azzi didn’t notice when her tears started to fall.  

“I thought about it every night. It seemed the only logical way to help you move on was for me to move out. I didn’t want you to breakdown whenever you see my face, Az. I sometimes see how you look at me longingly, like you wanted to reach out to my soul in hopes you’re going to pull Alina back. And there were times I could see you wish it was Alina you're looking at. And that’s why I left. I couldn’t bear hurting you when I’m around.” 

“Paige, why didn’t you tell me?”   

Paige smiled sadly. “I know you wouldn’t let me leave you with that reason.”  

“But you led me to believe you didn’t want me anymore and that you chose basketball over me.” Azzi's eyes started to bur from her tears.   

“I never meant to leave Dallas and you, but it would not help you move on if I stayed. So, Stewie helped me get a contract in one of the Euro League teams.”  

“Did moving across the world help you?”  

“No.” Paige shook her head as she reached out to wipe Azzi’s tears. “I missed you every damn day. I had to stop playing because I got home sick pretty badly. Thus, me staying here. Plus, the food in Turkey was subpar from yours.”  

This made Azzi chuckle and shoved Paige’s shoulder. “All this time I thought you didn’t want me, that’s why you left. Does that mean —”

“I still love you, Az.” Paige said with conviction. “You will always have my heart, with or without Alina.”

It was easy to forget that they lost a child, and to push the narrative that Paige left her because she was tired of dealing with Azzi’s ordeal. They could sit on this bed and go back and forth what transpired in the last two years.   

But everything would come down to one thing.   

They still love each other.  

“I do too, you know.” Azzi blinked away her tears. “And I’m sorry for ever doubting you.”  

“It’s not your fault. I let you doubt me.”  

“Where do we go from here?”  

Paige leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Azzi’s nose. She rested her forehead against her ex-wife's as she replied. “Baby steps, Az. We don’t need to have an answer now. There will always be a part of us that will continue grieving our daughter, and that will never go away. We will just have to take baby steps to fix ourselves. I’m always here for you.”

“Your eyes… she had your eyes, Paige. And the reason why I kept staring at them before was because your eyes were the closest living proof that my daughter was real. I held on to that fact so I wouldn’t get lost in sorrow. It broke me when you left. It meant I wouldn’t be able to see Alina again.”

“Oh, baby! I’m staying. I’m not going anywhere. These eyes are yours to look at.” Paige cupped Azzi’s face. “I’ll never leave you again.”

Azzi gave a faint nod, eyes glaring at the blue ones looking at her with love.   

“Baby steps.”  

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

Hector loaded the last of Azzi’s box and shut the back of his small van. He bid goodbye to Paige, promising a drink when she visits Hopkins.   

When Hector drove off, Paige and Azzi lingered longer at the foyer.  

Six days ago, Paige fell down on the floor in panic when she saw Azzi pointing a knife at her. 

The memory made Paige chuckle.  

“What’s funny?” Azzi mused as she grabbed her car keys from her shoulder bag.  

“Nothing. It’s just that I almost died here.” The blonde gestured to where she fell.   

It took Azzi a minute to get caught up on what Paige was talking about. Then she laughed, too. “Get over it! And never tell my parents what happened!”  

Paige mimed zipping her lips shut and tossed the invisible key over her shoulder.   

Azzi rolled her eyes before reaching for the doorknob.   

“I guess this is it.”  

“Will I see you again?” Paige asked hesitantly.  

If Paige asked her six days ago, she would laugh at Paige’s face and throw her car keys at her.  

But now, she was beginning to accept that she still loved Paige more than she wanted to admit, and that her future would still somehow include the blonde. 

What her future would look like was something she was willing to figure out in time.   

“Baby steps.”  

Paige nodded in understanding and smiled. “Baby steps.”  

Azzi watched the blonde reached into a nearby paper bag. She gasped the second she saw what her ex-wife pulled out. 

“Paige!”  

“I want you to have him. I know you spent a lot of your time in her room, and most of that time you’re cuddlign him. Take him back to Hopkins with you so you can have a little piece of Alina.”  

It was such a painfully sweet offer that Azzi didn’t know what to say at first. Her eyes moved from Paige’s face to the stuffed giraffe in her hands.   

“I can’t take him with me.” Azzi reached out to touch Mr. Jaff’s ears. “He belongs with you.”  

“No, Az. I gave him to Alina. I want you to have him so we can be with you.”   

Azzi’s throat tightened at that.   

Yet, she shook her head gently and pushed Paige’s hand, declining the offer.  

“You did well taking care of the lake house, Paige. I want you to stay however long as you want here. I’m not going to take this away from you. In fact, I’ll sign whatever paper works to have you as the sole owner.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Paige groaned. “This lake house is yours as much as it’s mine. Once I figure out which team will sign me next season in the W, I’ll leave.”

Azzi dind’t like that thought. “I hope it’s Minnesota this time.”  

Her response made Paige smile. “Baby steps, for real!”  

“Yeah, and that’s why he stays here so I can come and visit him again if I want to cuddle him.”   

Paige never thought of that, she suddenly placed Mr. Jaff behind her back, afraid Azzi would change her mind and take him with her. “You’re very much welcome to visit him anytime.”  

“I never thought I’d be sharing custody with a giraffe, and how I’m on the visiting rights side.”   

“Well, you declined custody in the first place.” Paige teased.  

Azzi let out a small laugh before bidding her goodbye to her ex-wife. 

“Good bye, Paige.”  

“Good bye, Azzi.”  

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

“Mommy, look!” Tiny footsteps were heard before Azzi could bookmarked her book. 

Alina launched herself on her parents’ bed, showing a weird looking yet adorable giraffe toy plushie. “Mama got this for me!”  

Azzi looked behind her daughter and saw Paige holdin her hands high in mock surrender. She already asked Paige not to spoil their daughter, but the blonde was relentless when it came to Alina.   

“He’s cute, baby.”  

“Help me name him, please?”  

How could Azzi say no to Alina’s puppy eyes?   

She could deal with Paige later. Toy naming came first.  

“Okay, what have you got?”  

“Hmmm... I don’t know, mommy.”   

“Well, it’s a giraffe, we can start with something that starts with letter G.”  

“Jaffs don’t start with letter G!” Alina looked offended.   

“It’s GI-RAFF, baby.”  

“I know! Jaff!”  

Azzi looked at Paige again for help, she found her holding her laughter by their door.  

“Uhhh, a little help here? You bought this for her, you help her name it.”  

Paige walked slowly and joined them on the bed. She carefully placed Alina on her lap and glanced at the toy.  

“Well, Jaff doesn’t sound bad. Right, munchkin?” Paige grinned.  

“But it’s a boy, mama.”  

“Uhhh, Mr. Jaff then?” Paige suggested, not knowing what to say anymore.   

“Mr. Jaff then.” Alina repeated.   

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── 

Azzi was back behind her wheels, feeling a lot lighter driving this time. The lake house was fading slowly when she looked at her rearview mirror, and somehow, she already missed it.   

The crunch of the gravel didn’t irritate her during this ddrive.  

As the road crackled beneath her tires, she somehow found them soothing. Familiar, in a way.   

Every time the tires rolled over, Azzi could tell the tiny stones did not like to be crushed. It mirrored a grieving person — lonely when no one was around, and angry when pressure took place.

It would never know peace without understanding that peace was never the answer to one’s loneliness and pain.  

It was surviving every day under the hot sun or under the heavy torment of rain. This gravel road would always be held together even while coming apart in small ways.

Azzi smiled, already knowing she would love driving on these excruciating tiny stones the next time she would come and visit the lake house.