cathrinu

“Sorry, what?”

Your voice just barely rings through the classroom, tentative and hesitant. Sevika draws in an irritated breath at the sound of it – not that it’s grating, but she just doesn’t want to waste time that’ll cause the prof to keep them here even longer.

“I know no one wants to be here during the summer, right, but for your own ease, it’ll just be better to pay attention in class, okay?”

Sevika’s tongue lolls about in her mouth, the tip of it prodding against her inner cheek. She hates professors like this, who act like they’re your friend in order to get you to do something. Rather than just say to a student I’m teaching, respect it by focusing, they loop the sentiment around in itself so that it sounds like everyone in the room is on equal footing. But, really, that’s bullshit. No one on an equal basis with you is going to tell you to avoid looking at the damn window. 

That’s just another reason why she’s eager to get out of here. She’s realized over the course of her four years here that she’s just not built for university. The entire system of one certain group of people being in charge and dictating the grades, and subsequent future, of the other, just seems doomed from the start. Sure, some profs are okay, but she’s dealt with one too many who were jackasses about her needing an extra day for an assignment, or who flatout refused to let her take an exam on another day when she was the only one who could drive her mom to a doctor’s appointment. 

She’s known this since she was a toddler, but power for one can only persist if it means disadvantage for the other. For one person to be above, another has to constantly be forced below, and enforcing that consistently is the only way power in a social dynamic can continue. She knows she’s overthinking the hell out of it, but she’s familiar enough with that kind of thing to know just how apparent it is even in academics. And that really dims the appeal of further education – she’s dealt with that stuff her entire life in her family, she’s not trying to hop to another version of it in school, and then in work. 

Her trail of thoughts are snapped in half when you answer back, “Okay.”

“And that means no staring out the window, okay?”

Sevika’s eyes remain pointed at her notebook (because, yeah, the jackass doesn’t even allow laptops in his classroom), and she awaits your answer, counting down the minutes till the lesson continues. 

After a heavy pause hangs around the classroom, you say, “Sorry, Sir. It just looks beautiful out.”

“It does, but you, along with everyone else, still chose to take a summer class, so–” He chuckles, the noise of which allows his sentiment to give off the impression of being put lightly. 

“Yeah, but, you know, I can still appreciate the trees outside nonetheless,” you respond, laughter now emerging from you. Sevika can sense your effort to try to tinge the conversation with humour as much as the professor – whether it be to ease any tension or just save yourself from the humiliation of being further reprimanded, she’s not sure. Either way, she wishes you’d give up like the rest of your peers probably would. This is just prolonging things.

“Not if I don’t post the slides online – then, you really have no choice but to focus, right?”

He doesn’t wait for your response, turning back to the whiteboard and continuing. She’s almost certain she hears a little crack in your voice, as though you were right on the cusp of saying something. 

Sevika’s glad you didn’t. She checks her watch again.

– 

The first thing you notice when you’re seated next to Sevika are her lashes. Thick and dark, they curl effortlessly as though the creation of her was infused with the ocean and made tidbits of her body roll and curve just right.

You snap your head down before she can meet your gaze, your face heating up. You already feel a twisted mix of guilt and curiosity, for the only reason you’re lowering yourself to the seat beside her is because the professor, yet again, caught you gawking outside the window as you watched two doves fall asleep on the branch. Honestly, you’re quite surprised he even managed to rein in his clear urge to punish you for three more classes since the last. But, punish he did, the act in question being seating you next to Sevika.

You know her, of course, having seen her at the one or two parties you’ve attended in your college career (nothing like the movies, unfortunately). She commands attention, but in ways that have no relation to attitude. Most of the time, she’s simply slouched in her seat, thick arms crossed over her stomach, eyes resting intently on the professor. But, her form, tall and wide, hair as dark as night, and knicks all over her skin, feels like something out of an artwork or poem, like she’s some sort of boulder of strength and resilience that writers have woven tragic plays about. 

Well, you’re sure you finding her attractive must also have something to do with possessing such a fantastical perception of her. Which is why it probably won’t even work in your professor’s favour that you’re seated next to her. For every sight of her rough, scarred hands has your mind hazy with questions. What’s the story behind that on her middle knuckle? Did she fight much as a child? Does she regret it now? Frankly, you envy the person who’ll one day have the privilege of intimately exploring her body, for they’ll have a treasure map to explore and engrave into memory.

However, you suppose it’d be inappropriate to openly watch her the way you do the rustling leaves thick and sprouting on the tree outside of the building. There are social customs to be followed, after all. Maybe your professor wasn’t as daft as you thought – maybe he thought if his own personal humiliation wouldn’t make you waver, then at least social custom and the pressure of your peers will. Not too bad an idea.

“Okay, and any other questions for the assignment?”

Ack, fuck. Your mouth twists into a slight wince, feeling the gnawing sense of anxiety bite into your guts. When the rest of your class remains silent, and your professor nods and announces that class has ended, the anxiety very quickly spins into a panic.

You bite on your tongue, eyes skittering about as everyone begins to pack their bags and shuffle through the exit of the classroom. Since it was a summer class, assignments weren’t given much time at all, and every succeeding day from now on would be a precious one in working on it.

When you feel Sevika’s shadow loom over your figure, her chair screeching against the floor as she pushes it back, you snap into action, your hand flying up to grip her forearm. 

Her skin is warm to the touch, covered in thick, black hair, and comforting against your fingers that have gone cold from the blaring air conditioning. It makes something in your stomach flicker to life, feeling suddenly flustered at the skin-on-skin contact, which caught even you by surprise.

Your eyes dart up apologetically, hand immediately jerking away when you find her flatly staring down at you, her eyes pointedly sliding between you and where your hand had touched.

“Sorry,” you say with a slight laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Um, did you get what the prof said about the assignment? I was kind of, um… distracted.”

Your voice lowers on the last word, feeling a rush of embarrassment at knowing you’re only confirming what the rest of the class must be thinking of you.

She blinks at you, and right as you feel as though you’ll disintegrate into dust under her sharp gaze, she heaves a sigh and shakes her head, picking up her backpack and filing through it.

“Sorry – thanks,” you rush to add, hoping it’ll quell some of the annoyance she seems to be reacting with. 

She tosses her open notebook onto your desk, and you flinch at the smack of it. When your facial muscles relax, you lean forward, your eyes soaking in the pages of her neat handwriting, filled with soft, pretty curves of black ink. When she clears her throat, you’re snapped out of your thoughts, fumbling for your phone so that you can snap pictures of her notes on the assignment. 

You barely set your phone aside before she’s grabbing the notebook, stuffing it back into her bag. As she rushes to leave, you quickly say, your string of words nearly blending together, “Seriously, thank you so much, it means a lot to me and–”

“Just start paying attention, I can’t do this everytime.”

She’s swivelling on the sole of her black sneakers and leaving before you can even muster in an apology, and all you’re left with is a creeping flood of embarrassment. Ack, God, she must see you as such a bad student. And who’s kidding? She wouldn’t even be that far off. But, still, it’s a not-so-ideal reputation to have secured yourself amongst your peers, and the fact that she must think that of you, probably even see you as a nuance, has you slouching in your chair, your stomach flipping in endless turns of anxiety that have you wishing you could just dive through the floor into nothingness. 

You resolve it by deciding you’ll get yourself a slushie. Just as a treat.

Thankfully, it only goes till mid-July, so just five weeks of hell left – which sounds a lot less promising in her head than she wishes. 

It’s not that she hates kids, per say. They’re just often annoying and ask the most grating questions and make her want to drive her fist into a wall. But, other than that, they’re okay. She’s been assigned babysitting duty enough times for her cousins to know how to rein in her temper and remain levelled and patient . Besides, she knows what it’s like to be on the other end of an adult’s anger, and as annoying as they may be, she’s not keen on subjecting them to that. 

Nor is she keen on how late the new kid is, her body sagging against the door to the kids’ gym in the community centre, scanning her watch. They’re joining a week late, which means she’ll probably have to look after them specifically to make sure they’re being “socialized” well enough. Not that she’s much of an expert at that. Her friend group as a kid pretty much consisted of all the other kids who threw shit at substitutes and constantly pummelled older bullies to the ground. And as an adult, the few close friends she has are derived from circumstance, not from her having sought any out. Yeah, she’s always had pent up energy, itching to be active, but that never made her lean on anyone for relief through interacting. Practicing basketball on her own, going to the gym – she’s always been satisfied with solitude.

“Hi, I’m so sorry we’re late, I— Sevika?”

Her head snaps up at the familiarity of the voice, eyebrows shooting up when she catches sight of you. One hand is tentatively raised in a wave, while the other is clutched on by a young girl. 

Her eyebrows scrunch together, staring at you in silent question. 

“Oh, she’s not mine,” you laugh, waving your hand in a jittery blur. “She’s my cousin. My aunt tasked me with taking her on the days she needs to head into work early. You know, it’s funny, because–”

“You can head in,” Sevika says to the girl, cocking her head to the door. 

She can practically see you deflate from having been interrupted, and a flicker of guilt springs to life in her. It makes her slightly irritated – she shouldn’t have to feel guilty. After all, she needs to work, and if she lets you ramble, it’s only gonna hold her back.

You blink a few times, then turn to crouch down to your cousin, softly speaking to her and pressing what you call a “good luck kiss” to her forehead. Sevika turns away from the whole thing, her stomach turning in discomfort to be in such close proximity to casual affection. She feels slightly pathetic for not even being able to fully stomach that kind of touch between relatives, but it just feels so foreign that to witness it in public feels wrong. Or weird. 

When you return six hours later, it’s with a chocolate bar for your cousin, and again, Sevika is struck with an embarrassed sensation, looking away. She’s not used to gifts given just for doing something, going somewhere. Part of her wonders if the kid is gonna end up spoiled because of you, but the little reminder in her head that this kind of behaviour is normalrings louder than she’d like.

As your cousin gets a drink from the vending machine, you lean into Sevika with wide eyes. “How was she? Okay?”

Sevika shrugs. “Yeah. A little quiet, but that’s normal since it’s her first day.” After a moment, she adds, “There’s another girl who recently joined. I paired them.”

She’s not gonna lie, she still feels a bit guilty for earlier. Pathetic, she knows. Hopefully a tidbit of a conversation is enough to sate you.

You cock your head, eyes soft as though you’re touched. Sevika looks away. It was nothing. What was she going to do, just ignore the two of them and let them play on their own? She’s not that much of an asshole.

“Yeah, she told me just now she made a new friend. She seems really excited about it.” You fondly glance at the small figure of your cousin as she punches in her desired number on the keypad. “Everything is so new when you’re a kid, right? Every friend, every new program.”

She hums. Even as a kid, she was pretty reclusive, but it made having an honest friend all the bigger of a deal for her. If she found someone, and actually trusted them to have her back, that meant something to her. And it was easier for her to get to the point back then. She wasn’t aware of just how many ways a person could fuck you over. Now, as an adult, it’s a reminder that always hangs over when she’s interacting with someone new. That’s why it’s just easier to keep her guard up until she's certain of someone.

“I remember when I was a child, literally everything I did had some kind of…” you trail off, your hands waving around, “specialness to it. Everything had a novelty to it. I feel like I was just always so in the moment that past and future weren’t really these things to think of, you know? If I saw a tree, it felt like the first time I was seeing it, since I wasn’t spending so much time in my memory and thinking of this or that tree from the past and hoping for it to return.”

Sevika’s eyes wander about your face. The sweet curve of your lips, the wide-eyed look of innocence. You’re like bambi or something. Or a rabbit. Just some kind of woodland animal. The encompassment of wonder and fascination, as though you’ve just stepped out of a Disney film. 

It’s foreign for her to see someone who’s essentially a stranger be this open this soon. You guys barely know each other apart from brief interactions in class here and there, and even then, Sevika usually lets you do the heavy lifting, because frankly, she’s not in the class to make friends. And yet, still, here you are, pouring out your childhood memories as though this is group therapy. It makes her feel thrown off and more awkward than she’d like to admit – she’s not used to this kind of thing.

She clears her throat. “You’ve got nothing to worry about back then. Makes sense that all you can think of is what’s happening.”

“Oh, I know,” you sigh, shoulders sagging. “I so wish I could go back to that. Some people say it’s about being more grounded.”

“Yeah, well, that’d be quite the task for you,” she scoffs under her breath.

You thwack her arm with a loud laugh. “Oh, shut up! What I do could be considered as grounding!”

She pulls away from your touch, the corner of her lip quirked up. “How’d you figure that?”

“I look at the trees and, you know, do that for a while. That’s grounding, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think it counts unless you’re actually thinking about the trees,” she deadpans. 

She’s suddenly struck with the realization of how stupid this conversation sounds.

“Who says I’m not?” you question playfully, leaning on your hip. 

Sevika’s eyes flick down to the movement and she finds her jaw clenching at the sight of the curve of your hip jut out. After a second too long, she says, “Just a hunch.”

You giggle, and the noise seems to break Sevika out of the loop of talking to you. Honestly, she hadn’t even realized just how easily she slid into it. One second, things felt stilted, and the next, you guys are bouncing back and forth as if it’s nothing. Normal, she knows, but she just hadn’t expected it with you. You’re far from the usual sort of people she hangs out with. A lot more… up in the clouds. Borderline irritating most days.

Your cousin returns just in the nick of time, waving her orange soda at you both. Sevika gives her a tight-lipped smile, not wanting her to feel too dismissed.

“Okay, see you next week,” she says dryly, hand lifting in a hesitant wave.

You flash her a smile before taking the pudgy little hand of your cousin and leaving.

She eyes your guys' interlocked fingers, suddenly wondering if it’s even safe for you to be taking care of a kid. She just hopes you guys stay away from any windows.

–

“Why are you guys still here?”

You look up at Sevika, trying not to get distracted from the sight of your cousin’s swinging legs, which is tucked away in your peripheral vision. 

It’s an difficult task, honestly. Sevika’s a sight for sore eyes, freshly showered, her hair even darker under the shine of the fluorescent lights, practically glowing from the sheen of the water. Your eyes linger on the locks as her long fingers brush through them. God, how you envy those fingers. Her hair looks like absolute silk.

She raises an eyebrow at you, eyes sharp as steel.

Your eyes bulge out and you gulp hard. God, so embarrassing – it’s one thing for her to catch you staring away at trees, but something else entirely for her to be the subject you can’t look away from. “Oh, um – my aunt’s picking her up today, but she’s running a bit late so asked me to wait with her.”

Sevika checks her phone. “Might as well just take the kid home at that point.”

The kid. You wonder if she knows your cousin’s name. You don’t want to ask, though, lest you seem like you’re prodding at how good at her job she is. But, still, the curiosity lingers. 

“I would, but I’m meeting my friends today and it’d take too long to walk her home then also head to the bubble tea place.”

“Near the library?”

“Yeah,” you say, hoping the trepidation you’re feeling doesn’t cause your voice to waver. Anyone who lives in this town knows that the surrounding area of the library is overall sketchy due to how isolated it is. And while you usually tend to avoid heading there on your own, the timing didn’t work out in your favour today. Less than ideal circumstances, that’s for sure, but you’ve already resolved to simply keep your friends on the phone as you head there, and they’ll probably meet you halfway, anyways. 

Part of you itches to see her show some care for the revelation, but all she does is nod, glancing away from you. If she were someone else, you might pout and tease, but you’re not nearly comfortable enough to play with her like that. Besides, you can’t see Sevika as being the type of person to give into anyone’s whining or complaining. Especially that of someone who’s, in all terms and measures, only an acquaintance. 

Which is exactly why you should not be feeling this disappointed that she’s barely sparing a reaction for news that, to any other resident of this town, would be pretty concerning. Right? You shouldn’t be this bothered by it, surely. Just because you two have spoken a handful of times doesn’t mean you share any sort of connection. Just because the slight brushes of skin and lingering eye contact have your stomach tightening in nerves, it doesn’t mean there’s something mutually there. Or some sort of external force pushing you together.

Oh, but how romantic is that notion? To talk to someone and rather than depend on practical things like compatibility and shared goals to guide your decision to be together, you know there’s some external force pushing you together? You can’t lie, part of you does believe in that concept – the idea of soulmates and all. That things in the world are at least partially guided by some invisible magic, interweaving lives together. It makes you feel like you have to work less hard to pursue her. 

Though you doubt the urge will ever really go away, a disappointed sting poking at you as she nods and walks away.

But, then, she doesn’t leave. You know her shift is done – you’ve picked up your cousin enough times to know she only showers at the centre right before she heads home. Yet, she lingers around, talking to coworkers, heading back into the gym and aimlessly shooting some hoops. You try not to stare too hard, but it’s hard to when even through the slightly dirty glass plane, you can see the flex and roll of her muscles.

Your aunt comes by, thanks you profusely, and with a kiss to the cheek, whisks your cousin back home to rush to the grocery store to get a cake for her in-laws visiting. You get so distracted by the interaction that by the time they leave, Sevika is no longer in sight. You tap your feet absent-mindedly for a few minutes, fingers rasping on your knees, before finally relenting with a sad sigh.

When you turn the hall into the side exit, you freeze at the sight of Sevika leaning on the wall, eyes trained on a lighter she’s flicking on and off.

Your chest tight with anticipation, you trot up to her with a smile. “You’re still here?” Are you here for me?

“Seems so.” With a sigh, she tucks the lighter into her jeans’ pocket, nodding her head at the door without meeting your gaze. “Come on.”

She pushes the creaky door open without waiting for a response, and you’re left racing down the rest of the hall’s way. She keeps the door open the entire time, her dirty black sneaker pressed against the bottom corner of the door

As you two walk through the back parking lot of the old toy store barely anyone goes to anymore, shoes scraping against the pavement, you ask, mouth tingling, “Did you wait for me?”

She scoffs softly. “No. Just had some last minute stuff to get done.”

“But, you always do your tasks before showering.”

She shoots you a discerning stare, and you feel your face turn hot. “You keeping tabs on me or something?”

“Well — it’s not like I have much to do when waiting around for my cousin.”

“Glad I seem to be entertaining enough.”

She says the words dryly, and you feel an inkling of guilt, hoping you didn’t make her feel ogled at. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Her left hand, the prosthetic one, slides into her back pocket, and you try to pointedly stare away as she fishes a crumpled box of cigarettes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“What, you’re just so used to girls looking at you?” you tease as you raise your bottle to your lips, trying to coax at least some light-hearted conversation from her.

“No. Just you. Because of class and all.”

You spit out the sip of water you had taken, face squeezing into a cringe at how some of it splatters onto your shin. In a rush of embarrassment, your hand flies to your face to wipe the remnants of it splattered on your chin. 

From your side, Sevika’s lips are twisted into a cruel smirk, her eyes straight ahead of her.

“Listen, I just get easily distracted—” you explain shakily.

“I can tell.”

“—and most of the time, I don’t even register what I’m looking at.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It’s the truth!” you protest, resisting the urge to stomp the ground. And it is the truth. However, an exception is Sevika, whose face you do tend to fully focus on. After all, it’s just too handsome to afford surrendering to your thoughts.

“Okay.” She lights her cigarette, the lighter clicking close before she stuffs it back in her pocket.

Her face is the image of impassivity, tone neutral lest for just the faintest edge of condescension. It barely gives you anything to go off of. And then, there’s the — oh, look at that tree. It’s so huge, branches crawling out like fingers, curving and crooked, beautifully arching like you guys are in some mythical land, and—

You stumble over a crack in the sidewalk, and Sevika immediately latches onto your arm, her long fingers digging into the plush of your skin. You catch yourself at the last second, your right foot landing hard to steady you, a slight ache shooting up your leg.

“Okay?” she says.

You rub the back of your neck, humiliation curdling within you, hot and nauseating. “Yeah. Thank you.” God, couldn’t you have had just a tad more grace in front of her? Just a tad? Which invisible force is now guiding you to be a lovesick puppy in front of her?

With a small noise, she releases your arm, and you immediately crave for her rough and dry palm to be back on your skin. The spot she touched is practically tingling, and your stomach seizes up in nerves. 

Trying to ease up the mood, you laugh lightly, “Guess I proved my point, huh?”

“About?”

“You know, getting easily distracted.”

“Had enough proof as is.”

Your laughter fades into a downright pitiful, broken chuckle, embarrassment curdling inside. “Ha, yeah.”

The rest of the walk is spent in silence. At first, you fear at the thickness of it, the unbearable quiet stifling and worrisome. But, with time, you realize just how at ease Sevika seems to be, her shoulders relaxed and face contemplative as you guys walk through the crooks and alleyways of your neighborhood. 

When you guys pass through the park near your elementary school, the wide, green field on one side, and the colourful bars and loops on the other, she releases a stream of smoke in a deep sigh. It feels like she’s at peace, like she doesn’t mind this lingering space stretching between the two of you. Perhaps it’s not up to you to have a problem with it. Maybe it’s okay to be submerged in this kind of space with her. Maybe she’s just not ready for more yet.

When you two reach the corner near the bubble tea place, the two of you the only ones on the street lest for your friend group waiting for you at the end of it, you grin up at her. “Thanks for walking me.”

The fact that she walked you at all still has you feeling quite hazy, as though this can’t possibly be reality. The two of you have barely bonded, barely spoken, yet here she is, walking you to ensure you’re safe. At least, that’s the only reason you can think of to justify the action. You’d like to think that it’s because she enjoys your company, and part of you does like to indulge in that fantasy, but ultimately, it’s hard to say anything with certainty. She’s too quiet. But, her being so does give you an opportunity to let your mind wander, to pretend that surely, she’s remained this long with you because she finds something pleasant about your laugh, your words, your care for your cousin. Anything. You’re desperate to latch onto the possibility that there’s anything she may like about you.

“I had stuff to do around here, anyways.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Oh? Like what?”

She levels you with a narrowed look. “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“I’m just curious!”

“And your friends are waiting,” she says with a cock of her head. “Just get going.”

You try to stifle the rise of dejection by reminding yourself that she walked you. She truly, really walked you. Out of her own volition. And she’s avoiding expanding on her claim that she had other stuff to do here. So, rationally, one would conclude she came to this part of town just to walk you and make sure you’re okay. The thought makes you giddy.

When you hear her sigh, you straighten up. “Yeah, I’ll get going. But, how will I know you got home alright?”

She shrugs. “You’ll see me in class tomorrow.”

“Or maybe, you know, I can get your number?”

When her lips begin to curl up, the image of smugness, you feel your tummy get caught in a whirlwind of sensations. God, she looks so attractive like that. And God, are you embarrassed. 

“Not in that way,” you try to explain, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s just to make sure you’re okay–”

“You getting this panicked says otherwise,” she smoothly says, leaning on the wall to the barber shop.

“I’m not,” you try to defend with a nervous laugh, your hand moving faster, voice wavering a bit too much for your liking. “Honest, I’m not— I’m not making a move or anything, and I–”

“Just hand me your phone,” she cuts in.

Already feeling enough like a frenzied mess, you fumble for your phone, continuing to laugh if not to just fill the silence, unlocking it and opening the New Contact tab. Handing it to her, your fingers brush her cool, metallic ones as she takes it, and you swallow hard, hiding your hand behind your back.

Her thumb rasps along the screen, and she hands the phone back to you. “Just text me so I know it’s you.”

Already, you’re itching with curiosity to see how she texts. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll text you when home too.”

You wonder if it’s pathetic to offer that up yourself without her asking, but before you can second guess yourself, she’s pointedly nodding at your friends again. The gesture is clear – Okay, we’re done, so leave. 

Her plan is to just swing the door open, take the paper, snap a picture of your notes, then be done with it. But, no, of course that doesn’t happen. Her mom tips her head out of the kitchen, and urges Sevika in Hindi to take you up to her room, since you came all the way here for her. She explains to her mom that based on the bus stop you get off at, you live a fifteen minute walk from hers, but the woman refuses to hear it, urging you inside with a spirited wave.

Sevika simply sucks in a sharp breath, trying to temper down her annoyance. The last thing she’s in the mood for is entertaining a guest, but her mom would rather die than potentially leave a bad impression on a visitor. And so, with gritted teeth, Sevika tells you to wait at the staircase, and heads into the kitchen to get a pair of chapal, which she drops unceremoniously at your feet. One of her sister’s, pastel purple – she figures you’d like it more than her own black ones. 

You guys sit awkwardly at the dining table while her mom gives you both chai, which Sevika sips on quietly while you fiddle with the frayed edges of the floral placemats her family has had for years, yellow stains spotted all over.

“Why weren’t you in class?” you ask.

“Had to drive my grandmother somewhere,” she says gruffly.

“Oh, where?”

She gives you a sidelong glance. “For a doctor’s appointment.”

“Ah, nice. Well, not nice. Just nice of you to drive her.”

Sevika hides her smile behind her cup. “Yeah, it’d be pretty fucked up if you meant otherwise.”

You huff with a growing smile, “Shut up, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

She twists her mouth around, trying to calm her smirk. You’ve got some teeth. She can at least respect that.

Not that that’s enough to make her resist a curse when her mom urges you two to her bedroom, saying she’ll give you guys some cut fruit. Sevika could fucking die right then and there. Not only is it embarrassing to have her mom on her ass like this, but the last thing she wants is someone she barely knows in her bedroom. She reserves the space only for people she’s close with and tends to avoid sharing it with other people. The only times she’s resorted to bringing a stranger inside is when she wanted to fuck and their place wasn’t available. Not that there are many people to fuck with in this town, anyways, which makes it even easier to avoid bringing strangers in here.

At the door, she turns to you, saying, “Wait out here for a minute.”

You burst into laughter and she rolls her eyes as you say, “Now what monsters do you have in the–”

She shuts the door on you, jaw clenched as she eyes the expanse of her bedroom to make sure there’s nothing out of order. She swipes a pair of plaid boxers from the floor and stuffs it into her laundry basket, then hides her ashtray behind her lamp. She shuffles her blankets into a makeshift concept of neatness, flattening out the creases, then tosses the self-help book she’s been stupidly reading into a stupid corner.

When she finds herself stroking her hair back in the reflection of her mirror, she pauses. Why is she prepping herself for you to come into her bedroom? Her hand darts to her side and she shakes her hair out. But, then, a stupid strand remains curled across her forehead and she can’t resist palming it away.

Okay, now she’s doing too much.

She forces herself away from the mirror, trotting to the door and swinging it open. “Yeah, just come in.”

“Easier said than done when you just spent a good two minutes in here, hiding stuff away,” you drawl, gingerly stepping inside.

“It wasn’t two minutes,” she says under her breath, pushing the door shut. She immediately regrets doing so. Maybe that’s a bit much. She doesn’t need to undergo the awkwardness of you getting the wrong idea.

Unfortunately, you take time to actually observe her bedroom. She leans on her door, watching you carefully walk around the small space, eyes taking in the posters of different art pieces, fingers running along the spines of the books stacked on the shelf her middle school teacher gave after volunteering for him. She hopes you don’t ask about the rocks on the top, ones that her ex got for her from that Florida trip.

You stroke along Tomboy’s Survival Guide. “I’ve always wanted to read this. Is it any good?”

“Yeah.”

Your quirk an eyebrow at her. “At least you don’t get paid by the word.”

She rolls her eyes. “I read it a while back. Don’t remember the details, but it helped.”

“Helped with what?”

Her back straightens in hesitation, trying to understand how much to reveal and how much to withhold. She rarely shares about herself, even with her closest friends. It’s just not something that was ever really asked of her growing up, and the less people she shares shit with, the less likely they are to use it against her. Her parents have done that one too many times for it to leave a lingering sense of caution.

“Just with understanding certain things more.” She hopes you let her leave it at that.

You, in fact, do not.

“What things?” you ask, tilting your head like some sort of puppy.

You’re trusting, maybe too trusting, eyes wide and blinking at her like she holds the world in her palm and it’s just a matter of time before she opens it. It makes something in her stomach stir, and she feels like she’s backed into a corner.

"Just…” she trails off, dragging out the chair to situate herself in it. Not to get comfortable, but just to have an excuse to avoid meeting your gaze. “Just made me understand I’m not some sort of freak for not being into the stuff my mom expected of me. Feminine stuff and all that.”

You nod slowly, gesturing to the bed. “Can I…?”

She sighs, leaning into her chair. This is going to be a long day. “Yeah.”

There’s something intriguing about how you immediately make yourself at home on her bed, crossing your legs and tucking your feet under your knees. It’s as though this room is one you’re familiar with, one that you’ve visited so many times that the mattress knows how to mold itself to your body. Sevika never really understood that. How people can settle in and feel at home so easily in a new place. 

“Why did you feel, you know, like a freak for being masculine?”

"You know, most people would just accept what I said and drop it,” she deadpans.

Your cheek twitches as you reel back, and she immediately regrets her words. Just slightly, though. You are way too curious, and more people need to tell you so. But, she probably could’ve said it… nicer.

“Do you wanna drop it?”

Okay, well, now you’re being so nice that she feels like a dick to drop it. She can, she knows she can. You don’t seem like you’d overstep, and she’s not afraid to draw that line. But, something about your openness again makes her feel bad to disregard the question. It’s just that she feels out of practice with such vulnerability. Like it’s a muscle that hasn’t been worked in years.

Instead of answering your question, she explains, “My mom wanted a daughter who she could share that with. Don’t think she felt really comfortable embracing it with my dad, so she thought she could with me.” She shrugs. “It didn’t work out. And I never saw anyone like me around, or at least anyone who didn’t eventually grow out of it, so I kept waiting till I’d move on, and I just… never did.”

"Sorry,” you say with a frown. “Probably isolating when you’re young, right?”

She huffs a laugh, drained of genuine amusement. “Yeah. You have no idea.”

Isolating is so small a word, it doesn’t even cover it. She’s not sure there’s any word that can describe the ugly mix of shame and stubbornness that came with growing up a butch. Butch. Even now, it’s still hard to say it with full confidence. 

She hated her mom for all the coaxing and attempts at convincing. Hated her distant relatives for always saying she needed to act differently and stop trying to chest pump the boys or wear kurtas. But, what made it all even worse was the contempt she had for herself. For making her home life even more shitty by not listening, and by being just so goddamn stubborn. It was a strange fusion of constant resistance and simultaneous hatred for not inheriting the complacency everyone else seemed so easily resigned to. The idea of changing herself felt like an outrage, but at the same time, it made things so much harder for her and caused so many unnecessary moments of discomfort or insult that she almost wished she didn’t have to deal with yet another part of her getting in the way. It was strange.

“Well, you know, I’m glad you embrace it now. You seem so comfortable.”

The words are so genuine that it takes Sevika a moment to digest them. “Yeah, I am.”

When silence falls between you two, Sevika debates letting it linger. Maybe it’ll prompt you to leave. But, part of her feels that it’d be wrong to not ask you anything back. Maybe she’s just so used to not talking about herself that doing so automatically has to be a transaction.

“Are you–”

“Is that a Sade poster?” you ask, pointing at the far right corner.

She doesn’t need to look back, nodding.

“Oh, I love her,” you say with a smile, shuffling excitedly on her bed. “I listen to Kiss of Life all the time.”

“She has better ones.”

“No!” you scoff, shaking your head furiously. Sevika feels her mouth twitch at the sight. “It’s, like, so romantic. I love daydreaming to it.”

The honest confession has Sevika blinking at you, certain her face looks like an empty canvas. Daydreams are a faraway topic from what she’s used to. “Okay. What, ‘cause it’s romantic?”

“Yeah!” you respond, your face practically glowing with enthusiasm. “Plus, the lyrics are so beautiful. It’s all about soulmates, string theory, all of that.”

“String theory?”

“Yeah, you know, the idea that the person you’re meant to be with is someone you’ve been linked to for life and it’s just a matter of time till you guys meet.”

She rolls her eyes. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

“I do – well, just a bit, but still!” you defend, shoulders stiffening as though the two of you are about to engage in a fist fight. “The idea of us having one right person for us who we’re bound to meet eventually – it’s comforting.”

“Yeah, and that’s why people buy into it. Because they’re scared that life is actually as shitty as it seems to be.”

“You can’t seriously be that pessimistic,” you softly say, your face twisting into something soft, malleable. It’s concern, raw to its core.

Again, Sevika’s stomach tightens at the sight. She’s not used to such earnest care from someone who knows her so little. She’s well-aware of how rough she is around the edges. And with that, comes care that only arrives after knowing her well enough to be on the receiving end of the care she’s so careful to hand out. She’s not used to this – this kind of unconditional care that’s distributed even amongst strangers. 

“I’m not – I’m being realistic.” Too much awful shit happens in the world to actually claim that things like fate, destiny and God exist. To think that there are external forces that pick and choose who gets the short end of the stick feels like an easy way to opt out of caring. God will take care of them. Our prayers will help them. The fuck it will.

“I think it’s nice to think that some things are prewritten. That there are some things, like, intangible. Like a connection between two people.”

“Too many people use that as an excuse to put in no effort. They depend on the ‘meant to be’ bullshit to give them an easy way out of actually trying.”

“That’s true,” you mumble, leaning back on her wall, sagging against it. “Still, though, I think it’s nice to think that there’s just a gut feeling that exists. One that makes you immediately comfortable, or get this itching sense that someone will be important to you.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. Okay, well, that she agrees with. She tends to follow her instinct a lot when it comes to trusting people, having honed a skill of being able to catch an immediate whiff of bullshitting. It’s just that she always took that as a sign of time on Earth, not some soulmate theory. 

When she tells you as much, you huff with a pout. “Do you not have one romantic bone in your body?”

She snickers. “It’s been a while since I needed it.”

It’s meant to be a passing remark, but nothing really is with you.

"Oh, really? How long?”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Yeah, that closet I’m gonna need some money for if you want me to open it right now.”

You tilt your head. “Closet? Like, being a lesbian?”

You look so much like a puppy, and she clenches her jaw to avoid bursting into laughter. 

–

You stare in wonderment at the tensing of her face. “What? What is it?”

A wide grin spills over her face and she shakes her head. “Nah, nothing.”

Your stomach flips and curls at the sight. One would presume that her smile would bring a sort of brightness to her face, but instead, it’s something rough, something dry. It carries a sort of wickedness to it that itches your stomach just right. That does things to you.

Before you can ask her after what her amusement means, her grandmother comes in. She says something to Sevika in Hindi, which earns her a nod back. She then opens the door wider and slides over a tray of cut up fruit on the desk you sit next to. 

While you two eat, she punches a CD into her small blue player.

You nod at it, curiosity sizzling in the pit of your stomach. “Why something so old-school?”

“Efficiency.”

You cock your head at her. You can’t imagine using a CD player is any easier than bluetoothing her phone to a speaker. “I don’t know if that’s really the case.”

“Then, good thing you don’t have one.”

You roll your eyes, but still, a smile lingers despite the snarky retort. She’s funny, in all honesty. Rude, but still somehow manages to avoid stinging you too much.

Another funny moment that occurs later that week is when she offers you a ride after class, and you reject it with barely a moment of hesitation.

It’s not that you weren’t tempted. On the contrary, when she approached you, long fingers rasping along your conjoined desks, it took every bit of willpower to keep your eyes focused on your pencil case as you dropped it into your backpack. Her gaze, so levelled and steady, made you feel utterly consumed, wrapped in nothing but a veil of steel silver. And when that lovely question was uttered, low and with an air of nonchalance that felt forced enough to ignite a smile from you, your stomach immediately burst into a fit of butterflies. Sevka, of all people, is asking to give you a ride? Surely, that must mean she at least tolerates your company, right? But, considering how blunt she is, even tolerating wouldn’t seem good enough reason to produce such a question from her. It feels like she’d only ask you if she really, truly liked you.

Every inch of you was screaming to say yes, but ultimately, you declined. Things at home have been less than cordial as of late, and the hour long bus ride you use to take home is like a refuge. A peaceful bubble where just just for a mere seventy-three minutes, you get to tip your head against the window, and watch the blur of greens whir together as the bus zooms past them. You get to plug your earphones in without having to worry about irritating anyone in your house for turning them on too loud and not hearing them call out for you. Not to mention, Sevika’s drive home would only be twenty minutes, and you can’t bear to get home any earlier than you need to. And more than that, you can’t bear to explain to Sevika why you need her to drop you off at a grocery store so you can hang there for forty minutes.

And so, you opt for taking the bus home.

When she asks you why, you smile and say, “Nice view, good music, lots of time to think. It’s so much fun.”

She gives a dry chuckle. “Seriously?”

On the way back, you repeat the image of Sevika in her home when you visited a few days ago. The bare feet, the low-hanging sweats, the muscle tank. The way her arms strained over her chest, her stance always so daunting. As though you’re some sort of threat, on the brink of lashing out at her any second. The thought is almost amusing. As though you could ever be one.

You let the music wrap around you through the ride. This period of the day always provided you with a modicum of relief, a safe cocoon reserved for no one and nothing but you, your thoughts and the carefully crafted playlist you made. It allows you to soak up your thoughts, get lost in the whir and fantasy of them, and let them consume you whole without any obligations or necessary tasks. You don’t have to divide your attention to something else, like walking or speaking or doing a chore. You get to simply sit, watch the lime green leaves spin past you, and swim in a sea of your musings and daydreams. It’s heavenly. 

You just try to hold onto that feeling for as long as you can.

The absence of Sevika’s company is made up for later that week, when on instinct, you walk to the community center having completely forgotten that your aunt told you she’d pick up your cousin that day.

It feels a bit vulnerable this time around, knowing that Sevika is walking you home as opposed to somewhere public to meet your friends. The intimacy doesn’t escape you – that is, the intimacy of both of you seeing each other’s homes. It’s something you’ve daydreamed about, that’s for certain. Inviting Sevika into your bedroom, watching her focused gaze take in the teenage posters, the little trinkets, the cards and letters kept from friends. Similar to the kind she had on top of her bookshelf. Perhaps you two aren’t so different, after all.

That is, if you’ll even let her in. You’d have to assess the situation first before doing so.

As you guys walk past a park, grass overgrown, sand dipped into with footsteps and the tracks of children, you point at it to her. “I came here all the time growing up.”

She hums, looking over her shoulder to scan it. “Looks like a mess.”

You snort. “It is. I heard they’re planning to renovate the whole thing this summer.”

She takes a drag of her cigarette. “You don’t sound too happy about that.”

“They’re gonna get rid of all that stuff that made the park good, you know? The metal slides that practically burn your skin off, the chipped monkey bars that always creak.”

“They can’t keep it forever just for your nostalgia. Eventually, they gotta cater it to kids now.”

“But, kids now would still love it!” you protest. “Those metal slides build character.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “They hurt like a bitch, and you know it. You just have those rose-coloured glasses because you grew up on them.”

You shoot out an offended gasp, reeling back to her. “Not true. I went on them last summer.”

“Wow, exciting life you lead.”

Rolling your eyes, you tauntingly walk backwards, leading yourself back to the park with an expectant eyebrow raised. 

“I’ve spent the entire day running after annoying little shits, I’m not gonna do the same with you,” she says.

“No one asked you to,” you drawl coyly, turning around to climb the rickety ladder up to the slide. 

She releases a heavy sigh, flicking her cigarette to the ground and stomping it out before following you from behind. She stands about a meter behind you, keeping her gaze pinpointed away from you. You hide your face to conceal your smile, chest throbbing as you realize that she’s trying to avoid staring at your butt while simultaneously remaining near enough if you need her. 

When you go down the slide, you feel a tad embarrassed for how childlike and free she’s seeing you, mouth split into a grin and teeth flashing as you squeal loudly. But, the feeling is quickly extinguished by the flare of excitement and fear as you zoom down the slide, the world spinning around you. The end of it is unceremoniously interrupted by you plopping down on your bottom on the ground, releasing a small, “Oof!”

She immediately crouches down to you, the corner of her lip quirked up. “Satisfied?”

The high of the moment causes you to break into a fit of giggles. “It was nice.” You lift your leg, inspecting your shin with a shallow laugh. “It indeed did burn like a bitch, though.”

“Yeah, it’s a tough ride, alright,” she quietly muses, her hand reaching out to pat down the sand from your leg. You swallow hard. It’s a touch that’s unasked for, not at all required. A touch she’s solely doing for your own wellbeing, her rough, calloused fingers drifting along the soft patch of skin as peppers of sand fall from it.

“You didn’t like going on them as a kid?”

“My friends and I went to the skate park more often,” she explains, eyes lingering on your ankle and making the spot feel like it’s blushing. “Besides, even if I did, I’m not as keen on taking a trip down memory lane as you are.”

“You don’t like thinking about the past? Or like, I don’t know, having fun with it?”

She brushes the last of the sand away. “What’s the point? The past has its moments, now has its moments. Looking back won’t change anything or bring you back there.”

“Yeah, but it might make you happy.”

“Or pissed off. Or miserable.”

Your eyes soften, mind hooked onto a singular question. What’s her life like? What’s her past life? What could rouse such bitterness from her?

She seems to pick up the tension hanging in the air from her comment, and shrugs. “I don’t need your pity.”

You throw your hands up. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Yeah, well, you looked it. Giving me those pretty eyes isn’t gonna change anything.”

Pretty eyes. You swallow hard, trying to pinpoint your brain into focusing on the more important sentiment of her words. Not the way your stomach flips and flaps from her implying your eyes are pretty… No, no. Focus on what she said. That’s more important.

“Do you wish there was stuff you could change, though?”

She holds your gaze for a second, and you feel frozen in place, the steel, cool look in them entrapping you. 

A second is all you get of its icy beauty, though, for she turns away a moment later. 

“No point in mulling on that.”

“Yeah, but—” You cut yourself off with a screech upon feeling something on your neck.

Sevika immediately whirs around, her eyes wide as she darts to you, ducking her head down to inspect you.

“Hey, easy, just– oh, my God, shut up, it’s just a ladybug.”

“Oh, my God, thank God,” you say in a whoosh of relieved breath, chuckling in a pitch embarrassingly high. 

She snickers. “Should’ve checked what it was before flipping out.”

You smack her arm gently, shooting her a glare. “How am I supposed to check my own neck?”

“That mirror you carry everywhere?” she supplies in a deadpan tone, raising an eyebrow at you.

A pang of surprise knocks into you. You didn’t think she’d notice that. How does she keep surprising you while still managing to linger behind this invisible line?

Her face leans closer to your neck, thumb brushing the skin of your pulse point carefully. You know she’s just trying to coax the bug from you (her gentleness, though, has you feeling malleable under her touch, as well as touched), but the scrape of her callouses send shivers creeping up your spine. Her breath, shallow and warm, brushes against the sweat seeping on your skin, and you bite your lip to hold in your quivering breath. She’s close enough to smell the scent of your spray, the musk of your sweat.

Her eyes suddenly flick up to you, sharp and focused, lingering on your front teeth hooked into your bottom lip. You watch as her lids lower, casting her gaze into something hot, heavy, hazy. Almost desirous if you let your wishful thinking seep through. 

She pulls back, the small animal seated on the nail of her thumb. You watch it wondrously, trying to ignore the throb between your legs. It’s so pretty, wings bright and sheer, lifting to flutter every now and then. You wonder how it feels to fly. Does it struggle in the winds? Or does it become one with them, letting them carry it on their back, floating and floating? It must feel all the freedom in the world, being able to up and fly at a moment’s notice no matter what. But, you suppose it’s not all rainbows and flowers considering how small and at risk it is. But, still, to fly and spend days amongst leaves and trees – it sounds like a personal heaven, sanctuary embodied.

“It’s so cute,” you say, hoping you don’t sound breathless.

Sevika says nothing, but steps closer to you nonetheless, raising her hand to show you the creature. In spite of the tense moment, a smile crawls onto your face, eyes locked onto the red wings with enraptured focus.

“I wonder what its perspective must be right now,” you mutter, trying to avoid scaring it off. What a curious little thing. “If it sees us as friends, or is trying to play it cool out of fear.”

“Do ladybugs even have that complex of a thought process?” she asks dryly.

“Maybe. You know, when I was younger, I used to chase them around outside because my friends told me it was good luck to get one on you.”

“Always been overeager.”

The comment, low and taunting, shouldn’t make you feel equal measures of hot-and-bothered and I-want-to-crawl-into-a-hole, but it does. It sends a blast of anxiety through you too. Is she implying you’ve been overeager with her? Does she find you annoying? She can’t, right, since she’s offered to walk you home?

“Unclench. I don’t mind it.”

Your entire face becomes drenched in heat, only adding to the sweat beading along your hairline. Something about her so directly telling you she doesn’t mind it, a statement you know she wouldn’t make unless she meant it, has you tumbling into a tornado of romantic musings and fantasies. What does she mean? Does she like you being overeager? Does she think you’re cute? And how nice that would be, to be the overeager counterpart to her, who is so nonchalant and reserved. It makes you giddy just thinking about it.

The ladybug flutters from her finger and a high-pitched noise gets lodged in your throat as it lands on your shoulder.

Sevika smirks. “Seems to like you.”

“Yeah, it um, it does,” you say with a bashful smile, feeling a wash of vulnerability as she again leans in. You also feel a sense of excitement at being chosen by the little angel. It almost makes you feel special.

“Silly guy,” she muses, meeting your gaze again before cocking her head to the side, silently gesturing for the two of you to leave to head home.

You decide to not let Sevika in, not wanting the potential prying or already-flamed drama of your household to ruin what ended up being such a sweet, darling afternoon. All you want to do is keep it untainted by leaving her here, on the last step of your porch, as you walk through the door.

You had woken up before Sevika and it was a habit of yours to immediately walk across the room and open the balcony doors.

So here you are, a few hours later, with the doors still open. It’s well into the morning now, with the mid-day heat having yet to approach. Sevika slept much longer than you, only managing to crack her eyes open 15 minutes ago. The moment she woke up, she reached for you, pulling you into her lap without much warning. It had caught you off guard but you welcomed her nonetheless. You had forgotten how affectionate she was during the early hours of the day.

She hasn’t said much, merely holding you quietly while her head rests against your chest. It’s only when she pulls away slightly to whisper, “You’re beautiful,” when the bubble of stillness disappears.

Her palms continue to press against your skin, holding onto the flesh of your hips. The pressure is what anchors you to reality. Your brain is muddled–a normal reaction considering the night you’ve just had. You still feel like you can’t quite catch your breath despite just waking up from a restful slumber. 

“I’m groggy,” You whisper back. You can tell that it shows with how heavy your blinks are. 

You’re straddling Sevika, sitting tall in her lap, as your hands cling to her shoulders. Her back leans against the headboard and she looks just as tired, a gentle grin stretching across her face. For a second, your muscles tense while her gaze travels across every inch of you. 

“Well.” Slowly, her head tilts. “...Still beautiful.” 

Your lips press together as you attempt to suppress a smile.

You’re the first one to look away.

The house will be filled with life soon. The last time that you checked the clock, the time was nearing 9am. Everyone else waking up is inevitable. But you try to bask in your bliss for just a few moments more.

“I want it to be like this forever.” You find yourself saying. Your fingers trail from her shoulders to her breasts–resting there for lingering seconds. She shivers from your touch, sucking in a breath when you drop your hands to her stomach. Your knuckles graze the delicious ridges of her abs. “In this room–this bed. With you.”

The only missing addition is Ava.

Your heart aches with the image of Ava cuddling in this bed with you two; where the comforter is surrounded by all of her toys and the television plays whatever movie she’s chosen. 

That’s the ultimate dream for you; being happy with your family.

A part of yourself knows that it’s too soon to be feeling like this. You shouldn't be wanting to play house with Sevika—not when the two of you are still trying to get comfortable with each other again. But another part of you wonders if it’s natural to be feeling like this; especially when, as of late, you’ve been thinking that the divorce probably shouldn't have happened in the first place.

“Maybe it’s too soon to be saying stuff like this,” You continue, shaking your head as if the action itself will clear your head from such thoughts. But it doesn't. “I don't know. Am I making things…weird?” When you peer back up at Sevika, you notice that a tiny smile is playing at her lips, eyes dancing while she watches you. 

“Not weird at all.” Her grip on you tightens.

Your right hand falls over your lips; a pathetic attempt to keep your joy at bay. Or, at least, to not make it so visible. Sevika notices.

“What is it?” She whispers. 

You shake your head. “I’m just happy.”

Seconds pass as she observes you. The joy you feel must be similar to whatever she’s experiencing, because her grin is so wide that you see her breathtaking gap. She’s all eye wrinkles and dazzling pearly whites; one of the rarest sights from her within the last three years. 

And fuck…you nearly break out into worship right then, praying that you’ll be able to make her this happy for the rest of her life. 

She pulls your hand away from your face, placing it above her left breast. Her skin is warm, pulse steady.

“You feel that?” She asks.

A stretch of silence fills the air. Her heartbeat is strong and consistent. It’s neither too slow nor too fast. For a moment, you wonder if you’re hallucinating. Surely, a calm pulse isn’t something that you’d peg Sevika to have. Not with how highstrung she usually is about work; not with how highstrung she grew to be with you.

But it’s there.

“That’s all you,” She continues. Your hand is still resting on her heart. “No one else can do that for me but you.”

Sometimes, you worry that you’re scaring her away with how…eager you’ve been to rekindle things. But this is a good sign.

Sevika is wrapped up in unadulterated peace, which is apparently because of you.

Your skin tingles as you pull away from her.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth and you swallow thickly.

“Lay down for me,” It’s more of a gentle suggestion, since you don’t want her to feel obligated. But there’s no denying your sudden hunger for her.

You hear her breath stutter as you climb down the bed further, tapping her knees before you spread her legs apart. 

Your head spins at the mere thought of having Sevika’s thighs around your head.

“Again?” There’s a small layer of awe in her voice.

You hum, practically combusting from the anticipation.

Wetness has already begun to pool between your legs; a clear indication that her feeling pleasure is what you love the most.

Sex with Sevika had always been great throughout the marriage. But it still wasn’t anything like this. The both of you enjoyed receiving pleasure just as much as you liked giving it. And although you’ve always loved being told exactly what to do to make her cum…your desire has seemed to intensify to an entirely different level lately.

“Is this okay?” You question.

“Of course it is. I always want you,” She swallows. “But are you not sore? Yesterday was…alot, angel.”

Maybe so. But you feel insatiable.

“I liked it.” You admit, lashes fluttering as last night's events flood your brain.

You loved fucking her. You loved hearing the noises she made, how her hips always stuttered right before she lost herself in bliss…how her abs tightened with each wave of euphoria.

Last night, she rode your fingers so hard that your wrist is slightly sore. 

One of her hands had been pulling at your scalp, forcing you to look at her–to watch her–while she chased her orgasm. She had driven you crazy when she continued to remind you of how perfect you were; that your fingers were made for her…that she loved how easy you were for her.

And when she came, sinking onto your hand for a long stretch of a moment, you nearly orgasmed with her. 

But then she had finally climbed off of you, her breathing labored. 

And you had still been so goddamn wet. 

You hadn’t hesitated in bringing your hands to your clit. Your fingers had still been creamy with her slick, mixing with your own as you shamelessly touched yourself. You had barely lifted your eyes to her before she shoved your hand away, grunting, “The fuck are you doing?” She spread your folds apart herself, smacking your cunt with enough force that caused your eyes to roll back. You were far too loud last night, but that seemed to spur her on further. Her mouth covered yours while she rammed into you with fingers that reached deeper than you ever thought possible, each digit perfectly thick, as she whispered about how pretty her strap would look inside of you.

The fantasies of last night are momentarily put on hold when Sevika slides down the headboard, her head coming in contact with her pillow while her legs extend. “If I hurt you, remember the code.” She says, growing sober. “You show it to me immediately. Understand?”

“Sev,” You smile smally. “I can handle it.”

And you can. She’s obviously stronger than you and there’s absolutely no way that you can gain the upper hand whenever she has you in compromising positions. But that’s the thrill of it all. That’s what makes it so…good.

And you know she loves it too, even though she’d be reluctant to admit it.

“Besides,” You add, lashes fluttering. “What if I love taking some pain with my pleasure?”

In this moment, you want her to fuck your face until your jaw aches.

Until you’re tasting her cum as it drips down your neck…

Until your frenulum is sore…

Even after the fact too, when the weight of her is so powerful that you can’t do anything but just lay there and take her.

Her pupils dilate as the grey of her irises darken. Almost as if she’s reading your thoughts, she tilts her head, clicking her tongue as she mutters, “You’ve become a filthy fucking thing, y’know that?” 

Upon her observation, your thighs press together. A satisfied hum leaves you.

With a kiss to her inner right thigh, you murmur, “Only for you.”

Her lip twitches but she doesn’t let up yet. “What’s the code? I need to know that you remember.” 

Quickly, you show her your thumb, waving it back and forth.

It was a quick nonverbal signal that could be easily done when your mouth is occupied. In situations where you could talk, the both of you agreed that the safe word was Red.

Seemingly satisfied, Sevika nods. “Good.”

You smile.

Younger you–married you–probably would have preferred sex that’s a bit more vanilla. But you’ve changed.

And Sevika has too. Because, in the past, she probably would have felt similarly, never daring to fuck you in any manner that wasn’t gentle. 

But with the way she’s currently looking at you, it’s apparent that being ‘gentle’ is the last thing on her mind.

She wets her lips, right hand coming to meet the back of your neck before she shoves you straight to her cunt.

“Go ahead, Angel. Use your mouth,” The tenderness in her husky voice deliciously juxtaposes her brute strength. “Suck first.”

And when your lips wrap around her swollen bundle of nerves, sucking just like she commands, you’re satisfied to see how her breathing falters, how her jaw clenches while she pushes you further into her…and how her large hand covers the entire backside of your neck, thick bands of her quads surrounding you.

***

You’re grateful for the cool air that brushes your skin. The temperature is considerably lower due to the previous storm, and for the first time in months, you’re wearing a jacket.

The tea in your mug is warm, serving as a portable furnace while you sit in your chair.

Your old rocking chair.

It’s been far too long since you’ve sat in it. 

You’ve managed to step away from everyone else, just needing a moment to quiet your brain.

Sevika is with Graysen, Gert and Mel in the kitchen. The distant sound of their voices still carries from inside the house. They’re making brunch, a suggestion from Mel, since everyone didn’t wake up until the late hours of the morning. Lianna and Ava were starting a movie that Mel helped them choose. When you last checked on them, they were sitting on the living room couch with groggy eyes and small bowls of blueberries.

You don’t think you’ve felt this relaxed since your dad died.

“Doing okay out here?”

Slowly, you glance to your right. Graysen peaks her head out of the door.

You smile, “More than okay.”

Your legs sit comfortably on your stool, neck supported by a pillow that you’ve grabbed from the sitting room.

For a moment, you allow yourself to dream that this has been your reality all along; that the divorce never happened. That this is just another peaceful Saturday morning with your family.

Graysen’s footsteps grow closer before she plops down in the patio chair beside you. She is wearing an old pair of Sevika’s sweats and tshirt, seemingly unaffected by the cool chill in the air.

Instead, she takes a hearty swig of her orange juice, smacking her lips obnoxiously.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” She mutters. When you glance at her, you notice that she keeps her gaze forward, eyes fixed on the front yard. “You hadn’t been okay for a very long time.” She adds. Her nostrils flare.

That’s when it dawns on you that she’s growing emotional.

“So,” She clears her throat. “It means a lot for me to see you happy again.”

Your grip around your mug tightens.

She still refuses to look at you, jaw clenching and unclenching, as if she’s fighting to keep her composure. 

Your heart swells and for a split second, her gaze darts in your direction, peering at you from the corner of her eye before looking away. 

“That smile on your face is far too big,” She grunts.

You laugh. “I thought you liked seeing me this happy!”

“Yeah but still. There’s a medium that you’ve clearly crossed. How are your cheeks not hurting?”

You raise your mug to your lips, hoping that the tea dilutes some of this overwhelming joy. 

Silence takes root between you and Graysen, which you don’t mind. Instead, you allow your brain to wander to Sevika–how she probably looks heavenly while cooking in the kitchen right now.

And you think of your daughter, how she barged into your old bedroom about an hour ago and giggled in delight when she saw you and Sevika cuddling in bed. “Mommy! You’re still here!”

And then she had climbed into the bed without hesitation, nestling between you and Sevika before asking for waffles.

“I’m happy for you both, you know.” Graysen finally admits, pulling you from your reverie. “I knew it would happen but still–”

“Oh please,” You snort. “You did not. In fact, you lost 60 fucking bucks due to being so clueless.”

“No.” Her jaw ticks at the reminder. “I still thought you two would work it out. Just not as quickly as you apparently did.”

You try to put yourself in your friend's shoes, wondering how obvious you and Sevika have been about each other. You guess you’d never truly know. But that didn't seem to matter as much as everyone’s happiness for you both. It meant a lot to have your friend’s support.

Your lips rub against one another as you try to replay the memories of the past week.

How could such a short amount of time feel so long? In the best possible way…

“Would you move back here?” 

Your eyes widen. “...W-What?”

Her hands raise in defense. “I’m just curious s’all. I haven't seen you like this in years…the house makes you…” She shrugs. “Lighter? I don't know. There’s…life in you now.” 

The question makes you squirm.

You feel like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on you.

“I have my own apartment.” You defend.

“Well, I know that. I didn't mean—”

“I left everything behind in the marriage. I had nothing. I made Sev keep everything and I busted my ass for that apartment. I saved like hell and I worked harder than I ever have and it’s not like this house. But it’s home and a damn good one. I became independent and consistent and reliable and it's one of the very things that I am proud of because I did it all for Ava.”

“Hun—”

“And she likes our apartment. We’ve made the best memories there. And even though I know it’s small and just because Sev and I are trying again doesn’t mean that I should just walk away from everything I’ve built. The apartment is mine and I’m proud of it. And I don't think it would be fair of me to just immediately leave it all behind, leave all that I've built and who I’ve become behind, just to move back here—”

“Hun, I didn't mean anything by it.” Graysen reassures, her voice growing soft as she reaches out towards you. Her hand falls on your arm, squeezing it gently. “You just seem really happy here s’all. Whether you decide to keep your apartment or not, there's no specific way to go about this.”

“I shouldn’t want to move here after only one week of dating her.” Your eyes sting. “We aren’t there yet.”

…And maybe you had a bit of embarrassment about your apartment, because it was clear that Sevika is able to provide Ava with so much more than what you can. But, more importantly, the person that you became after the divorce was someone who learned so much without Sevika being there to help you. You had learned so much more in therapy than you ever thought possible. And moving back into this house, after barely even getting together with Sevika, not only felt counterproductive to your growth but scary. 

Because as you begin to think about it more, how the hell would you morph your life into hers while still managing to keep the independence you’ve worked for? And could you move back into this place in good faith, without fearing that all the lessons and hard work you’ve been through was in vain?

You blink rapidly, refusing to let any tears fall; refusing to acknowledge Graysen’s pressing stare.

Earlier today, you had been too caught up in the intoxicating fog of Sevika. You had allowed yourself to daydream about moving back into this house, remarrying Sevika and forgetting about all the heavy decisions and weight that came with making a drastic change such as that. You had been blinded with rose-colored glasses, not facing the fact that it’s truly only been one week into this relationship with Sevika…not considering the fact that Sevika might not even be ready for such a change herself–that the both of you may never be ready for such a change.

Your heart hammers while your brain floods with an ocean of realizations.

What if there came a point where the two of you couldn't agree? Where you didn't feel comfortable moving back here and Sevika wouldn't want to move to you? What then? Would the pair of you continue to date each other? Continue with the split custody of Ava while keeping separate homes?

What was the point in doing that?

What was the meaning behind all of this? The end goal? 

Of course you and Sevika loved each other. Of course the pair of you had agreed to try again. But what about after today? 

In 5 years? 

In 10 years?

Certainly not a…marriage.

Not after you had messed everything up the first time around. Not after you nearly lost her permanently.

“Hey,” Graysen tugs your arm. “I know that look. Don't do that.”

“I’m not doing anything other than thinking rationally.”

“You’re catastrophizing.”

“No, I'm thinking what the fuck did I just get myself into.”

“...You’re happy and it's scaring you. Don’t get in your head. Don’t run.”

“I’m not running. I’m—”

“You’re backtracking. This is what you do. You deny yourself what you know you want. Because you’d rather be scared than to be hurt.”

“Look–I’m fine.” Your voice is shrill, unfamiliar to your ears and a few notches louder than you originally intended.

Graysen is looking at you with glossy eyes. She inhales sharply through her nose, lashes growing wet from her continuous blinks, before she exhales.

“You’re getting scared. And I think it’s because you secretly want to be here too,” She states slowly, as if she’s worried that she’ll catch you off guard again. You flinch from the cut of her words, because she couldn't be any more correct. You hate how clearly she can see through to you. But it's also the reason why you love her. “And there's nothing wrong with that. You need to figure out what moving back here means for you…what it means for Sevika and Ava too. That's a heavy weight to bear right now. And that's understandable because I shouldn't have even asked. It’s too soon to seriously think about such a thing so I apologize because that's on me.” 

Her hand travels down your forearm, intertwining your fingers with hers. 

“But don't let fear win. She loves you and if you decide to keep your apartment, she’ll continue to love you. Hell, she might even move in with you.” Graysen chuckles.

Your body stiffens, “Do you really think she’d do that?”

“I think that you're probably more of a home to her than a piece of property ever could be,” Graysen shrugs, as if that's the most obvious answer. “Wherever you go, she’ll be right there with you. As long as you want her to be.”

Your mouth twists as you try to wrap your brain around that.

Although you hope that's the truth, that doesn't negate the fact that this house holds memories that are unforgettable—both the good and the bad. You're not sure if you could ever ask Sevika to give up this place; even if it meant her moving into your apartment. She's already suffered enough from the divorce.

No.

You absolutely couldn't do that to her.

Your brain jumps back to this morning, how you and Ava had cuddled in your old bedroom, watching cartoons on the television while Sevika showered. It was such an ordinary moment, but it felt like something so much bigger. It felt like washing ashore after surviving a shipwreck. It felt like the first sunny day of spring; like becoming whole again after experiencing an agonizing period of soul-searching.

And that scared you.

It scared you way more than you’d like to admit. Because although you're feeling all of these things, you weren't sure if Sevika was on the same page as you.

She was more protective of her heart, within good reason, so you didn't want to scare her. 

And even though she's beginning to let down her walls again, you fear that she’ll somehow break your heart. 

You fear that you’ll eventually be willing to fully come back to her—to this place—just for it to bite you in the ass. You fear the possibility of leaving your old life behind—the apartment and independence and strength that you’ve grown to appreciate—just to end up shattered once again.

Graysen is right, it's entirely too soon to be worrying about such a thing.

But it's also too soon to want to come back to this place; to want to fully become Sevika’s and submerge yourself into her world again.  And yet, here you are, desperately wanting to do that despite your bone-chilling fear.

So, for the first time since all of this began, you truly understand Sevika.You had always related to her cautiousness but never at this magnitude.

Somehow, you've fallen deeper in love with her, which you never thought was possible. 

And that scares the shit out of you.

***

“Are you going to sleep over with Mama again?” Ava whispers to you. Her head is nestled against your neck as you readjust her on your hip. You find yourself biting the inside of your cheek due to her question.

The pair of you are on the back porch, taking in the beauty of the backyard foliage. It’s only a small moment that you wanted with her. You’re not sure how much time has passed but it’s certainly been longer than what you told Mel. 

“You mean tonight?” You ask.

Ava nods. “Like Auntie Graysen and Mel.”

Your muscles tighten.

Your brain struggles to process a quick enough reply.

“Lianna always says how she kisses her mommies goodnight when it’s bedtime.” Ava’s grip tightens around your neck. “Auntie Graysen and Auntie Mel have a bedroom together. Lianna says it’s funny that you and Mama don’t.”

Your throat tightens.

“Does that bother you?” You rasp. “That Mama and I don’t share a room?”

Ava shrugs, nestling further into your neck. “Sometimes. I like it when you’re here with me and Mama…Even though she makes you act kinda silly.”

You bite back a laugh. “Oh yeah? What do you mean?”

Ava hesitates. Then, “It’s like when Auntie Graysen, Auntie Mel and Auntie Gert make you laugh and you smile too big.” Ava lifts her head to demonstrate, pulling her lips into an adorable grin. “Or that one day that me and Lianna made you the surprise cake with Auntie Mel. You kind of look like that around Mama. Except all the time around her.” She pauses, her smile faltering. “Well it’s like that now. But before, I remember that Mama used to make you sad. I’m glad that she doesn’t anymore.”

Your heart drops to your stomach.

You don’t know what to say.

You aren’t sure how to navigate this conversation or even how to move away from it.

You never thought you’d be discussing something like this with Ava–not so soon.

You always prayed that you would at least have a few more years before she brought up your separation with Sevika. And a small part of you hoped that her child psychologist had been correct, that she would be the small percentage of children to forget about these past few years as she grew older–that she wouldn’t remember the pain and heartache and chaos that the divorce entailed.

But sometimes kids do remember.

Sometimes, kids notice far more than one could ever be prepared for.

And you don’t feel ready for this; for her questions and her honesty and her painfully accurate observations.

You wished that she could have had Lianna’s early childhood–that she could have been more innocent and carefree and ignorant to the dark tribulations of parental separation. You wish, more than anything, that you could have given that to her. 

But instead, you’re stuck with this. Stuck trying to help her through her confusion. Stuck trying to piece together a situation that should have never occurred. 

Stuck with no answers.

“Mama used to be sad too,” She murmurs, eyes downcast. “Sometimes I would hear her cry at night.”

Your hold around her tightens as your mind swims. You try to gain your bearings; to appear unaffected despite feeling the complete opposite. 

“I heard Mama talk with Auntie Mel about you sometimes. She would say that she missed you and still loved you. I like that you both are not mad at each other anymore. It’s like when Annie and Hal helped their mommy and daddy stop being mad at each other!” Ava brings her gaze upwards. Before you can fully register what she’s saying, she asks, “Do you love Mama too?”

“Yes, I do. More than anything in the world.” You shift your weight. “I love her as much as I love you. And I’m sure I missed her just as much as she missed me.”

Ava’s eyes widen. “Really?”  

You smile through your tears. “Of course. She gave me you after all.” Ava giggles when you lean forward to brush your nose against hers. “Sometimes we meet special people in our lives that we can love forever and ever. Like how Auntie Mel is Auntie Graysen’s special person.”

Ava tilts her head and in that moment, you're stunned by her striking similarity to Sevika. She’s always had similar features but her mannerisms now feel closer to Sevika than you ever thought possible. 

“So Mama is your special person?” Ava concludes. Her big round eyes sparkle.

“Yeah,” You laugh, heart skipping at the question. You had never thought of Sevika in this way but God could it not be anymore true. “Mama’s my special person.”

Ava’s grin widens. 

“And I do love being here with you and Mama,” You admit. “...But I don’t want Mama to feel too crowded so I’d only stay another night if she’s fine with that, okay?”

Her joy is infectious, causing you to mirror her as another laugh escapes you.

“If you sleep over here more, Lianna and I can be like Annie and Hal! We can make you and Mama dinner. But we have to get a boat first…Maybe Auntie Gert can help us. And then you and Mama can get married!”

You choke on your saliva. “W-What?” 

“It’s perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” 

You jump, whipping your head around to find Sevika peeking her head out of the patio door.

You barely have time to respond before Ava shouts, “You and Mommy getting married!”

Oh my god.

Sevika freezes, her posture straightening as she sucks in a breath.

You can’t even look at her.

“That’s not what I–” But you cut yourself off, unsure of how to explain yourself. “It’s nothing. Seriously.”

Because the last thing you need is for Sevika to be scared away.

At this point in time, that would probably be your worst fear.

“Like Hal and Annie,” Ava offers. “They help their mommy and daddy stop being mad at each other. And then their parents get married. You and Mommy can get married too, since Mommy says she likes being here and that you are her special person.”

“That’s…” You trail off, not able to deny Ava’s statements.

Because…well, it’s not like she’s wrong.

But still.

This isn’t the time.

“Who’s this Annie and Hal that you keep talking about?” You question, desperate to find an escape.

“From Parent Trap!” Ava peers at you as if you’ve just asked the silliest question ever.

A breathy titter leaves you. In complete disbelief, you glance at Sevika. She marvels at the both of you with a gentle smile.

“Auntie Gert likes that movie. Lianna and I watched it with her last week,” Ava goes on.

Your tongue clicks and you shake your head.

Of course they did.

Sevika meets your eyes. 

Her two front teeth sink into her lower lip. 

You think about all the kisses you’ve shared with her earlier this morning; how her pillow-y soft lips felt against yours.

It’s such a miniscule memory but it causes something to stir within you.

She’s beautiful.

“Parent trap, huh?” She muses, gaze never leaving you. “Isn’t that movie like, 30 years old now?”

Sevika opens the patio door further, stepping through the threshold at a languid pace.

There hadn’t been much distance between you and her to begin with, but now you truly feel the weight of her close proximity. For some odd reason, you feel incredibly vulnerable; like Ava’s rambling has exposed you.

You shift your weight to your left foot, then right, then left again.

You figure that Sevika will stop at some point, maybe a few feet away, or at least once she reaches arm's length. But she doesn’t.

Instead she just draws closer and closer and closer.

To the point that it causes Ava to giggle uncontrollably, sending a wave of fuzzy warm feelings throughout your body.

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to, like,” You swallow thickly, mind clouding due to her presence. “Invade your life here. I don’t want to overstay my welcome or for you to feel any pressure about all of this. And although I know what Ava just said was the complete opposite, please just know that the marriage talk was definitely unwarranted and surprisi–”

“Unwarranted?” Sevika mutters. She reaches for you, both hands cupping your cheeks. Her thumbs, perfectly placed against your cheekbones, swipe your skin with startling delicacy. 

“...And Ava had just brought it up when you happened to appear so I’m not like, planting this seed of us ever doing that because I understand it’s way too soon to be thinking about stuff like that and even if it was possible, it would be absolutely scary and after all that’s happened, something like that might not be in the cards for us. I mean, this is already a lot as it is and I absolutely understand if that’s something you don’t even want to think about right now because, well, it’s not like–”

“This morning, you told me that you could be here with me forever if I wanted that.” She mutters. Her cool breath fans your face. “...Is that truly how you feel?”

Your lips part. “...What?”

“Were you just buttering me up or is that true?” And she peers at you with a softness that nearly disembodies you right there. “Because if it is, then you should know that I don’t care if you invade every square foot of this house. I want you here. I want you to take up all the space you desire.”

You rapidly blink away your tears. “You don’t mean that.”

“I absolutely do.” She nods, resting her forehead against yours.

You ruminate over the words that Graysen muttered to you earlier today:

Wherever you go, she’ll be right there with you. As long as you want her to be.

You want to jump for the moon while also simultaneously melt into a puddle. 

You know you should say something–say anything to agree with her. Internally, you do agree with her. You’re well aware of the ache inside of your chest that is begging you to slowly reintroduce yourself to a life with her.

But you can’t quite leap for that right now.

No matter how much you want to, there’s an overpowering knot in your gut that twists with fear. And the knot feels too powerful to ignore.

Sevika pulls away to observe you–watching you watch her. 

Her silence is kind. Painfully kind.

“Unless you didn’t mean it,” She ponders. “Which, if you didn’t, I understand. Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in the moment.”

No. That’s not it at all.

You want to tell her that you meant it; that this morning had been the best morning you’ve had in years. That you truly would be at bliss if you were told that you needed to permanently reside at this house from now on. 

But that fear…

God, that fear within you is so vicious.

“What is it?” She murmurs, searching your features. “What’s happened in the span of a few hours for you to change your mind?”

Her hands catch each teardrop as they begin to fall from your eyes. Her brows furrow from your growing distress.

And you realize that she doesn't deserve to experience such confusion.

In fact, she deserves nothing but transparency and honesty.

“I’m scared.” You admit.

Her breathing stutters as realization dawns on her face. 

“I want these things with you that I shouldn't want so early on,” You clarify. “And it scares me.”

You get it now. 

The fear that she’s had all this time; the fact that nearly 24 hours ago she was begging you to never leave her. You understand it.

You don't think you’d be able to fully recover from a breakup again. Maybe you’d survive it but you would forever be scarred if you had to live the rest of your life without this. Without her.

“I’ve somehow fallen even deeper in love with you.” You explain. “It just feels so fragile and would be all the more devastating if I were to lose you.”

Her features soften as she gives her head a subtle shake.

She appears to be slightly puzzled by your confession and her throat bobs while she swallows, digesting your words slowly.

Then, finally, she whispers, “Baby, I’m not going anywhere. You've ruined me for anyone else.” 

She utters this like it's the most obvious admission.

She dips down to meet your gaze better. A few short wispy hairs brush against her temples and her undivided attention leaves a staggering effect.

You feel inclined to lean forward, raising on your tip toes to press your lips against hers. 

She mumbles something incomprehensible against your lips. Then she's pressing down to meet you with more force. The emotions that you feel are too convoluted, with your fear and passion and love and comfort all being tangled together into a big ball of angst. All you know is that despite your panic, she’s the only one that can truly wash it all away. 

“This is yucky!” Ava exclaims. You're gasping for air when you break the kiss, shocked by her interruption. Ava is patting your arm, a clear indication that she wants to be out of your hold. “...Almost as yucky as Auntie Mel and Graysen kissing.” She grumbles.

As you let her down, a muffled chuckle sounds from Sevika.

“Sorry, bug.” You mumble, struggling to suppress your own amusement.

Ava doesn't reply, hurrying back into the house without a reply. Her footfalls are fast, hitting the floor with quickening speed the farther away she gets. You bite the inside of your cheek, hand falling over your lips in an attempt to hide your smile.

This moment encapsulates what the younger version of yourself always dreamt of; peaceful days with Sevika while your daughter runs around the house carefree.

It was a dream that the divorce quickly shattered; something that you never thought would ever come true.

And yet, here you are.

Sevika’s touch is gentle, a simple graze that pulls you back to reality. But then it becomes more present, her nose nudging your neck as she dips down further. When she inhales, her chest expands and you feel the thud of her heartbeat as she presses against you. It’s a long drag, the way she smells you while her arms cling onto the curve of your hips. She nestles into you further, slowly exhaling before breathing you in again.

Your eyes flutter and your mouth pools and all you can think is holy shit.

You don’t think you could ever get used to this–the way that Sevika disembodies you in the simplest ways. Her habit to cuddle you, to sniff and rub and caress, was not new. But even before, you don’t remember her being so…ardent for you. It’s intoxicating. 

A low hum settles at the base of her throat and she grips you tighter, thumbs kneading into your love handles. 

“Stay another night?” She mumbles, voice muffled. Her breath is hot against your throat and you find yourself wrapping your arms around her neck, trying your best to stabilize yourself.

And then you feel the press of her lips.

Your knees buckle at the gesture, and you almost believe that she smiles from your reaction, but your brain is too muddled to know for sure. All you can focus on is the pressure of her soft lips, how they suck just the way you like before she presses her tongue flatly over your flesh. She sucks and blows and sucks some more, eliciting a gasp from you, before you feel a sharp pang with the perfect amount of pressure. Her teeth.

“Don’t go home tonight.” She whispers, retracting her lips from your neck. “We can pull out those board games you used to like. They’re still in storage. I’ll make some stew, give you a nice massage. I’ve already thrown another load of your old clothes in the washer…” She whispers. Then you feel the glide of her nose again, which nearly causes your heart to grow wings and flutter away. “Just one more night baby.”

You wonder if this is a dream that you’ve somehow conjured up. It feels too good to be true to have Sevika begging you like this.  

You swallow thickly, taking much longer than usual to process her words.

“You sure I’m not crowding you out?” You rub your lips together in contemplation. It’s not like you planned to stay this long anyway. Sevika had become an impromptu host last night, with the unexpected storm and all. Although you’re positive she didn’t mind, it still wasn’t in the original plan. It was only supposed to be a barbecue. And now, merely 24 hours later, you and your friends are still residing in her house. 

As if on cue, there’s a Gert-like cackle that echoes from within the house. Then–girly childlike giggles, surely coming from Ava and Lianna.

“You’ve had a full house for a while now,” You continue. “I wouldn’t be mad if you needed a little alone time…”

“Well, I’m not exactly asking for our friends to join us.” She smiles gently. “Just my girls.”

And you allow the tenderness of her words to fully latch onto your heart.

You and Ava.

…Her girls.

You haven’t heard her say that since Ava was born.

Your muscles unspool and you smile back, heart hammering and head spinning.

God, this is perfect.

You want to remember this day forever.

“Okay.” Is all you can reply.

Her eyes brighten. “Yeah?”

“I was kind of hoping you would ask but I didn’t want you to feel pressured to.” You find yourself saying. A laugh full of mirth escapes you. “Being here with you and Ava…It’s nice.”

She looks as if you’ve knocked the wind out of her. 

Pleased and breathless, she hums in satisfaction. 

Then she meets you with a kiss.

***

The following days blur together in the best way.

When the evening arrives–when you’re off of work and Sevika isn’t preoccupied with the Shop–you find yourself feeling the most at peace. Because you know that you’ll be spending your evenings with her.

Gone are the nights when you’d cry yourself to sleep, wishing you could turn back time.

Gone are the nights filled with heartbreak and yearning.

You end up staying with her for three more days before you have to go back home. It was early morning when you had finally gotten ready. You were wearing some of your old clothes that Sevika had washed, but you would have to stop home to change, since today was your first day back at work. You were surprised when Sevika had already packed you breakfast for the road, handing you one of her Hydro-Mugs filled with tea. 

You were flattered, showering her with kisses which made her snicker underneath her breath.

The bubble of bliss, however, shattered slightly when you picked up Ava. 

“Say bye to Mama,” You had said. 

The air had grown silent, causing you to blink up at Sevika in confusion.

She chewed her toast silently, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re taking her?”

“...Yes? Do you not want me to?”

“Well…Um, I was hoping to take her with me to the Shop, maybe go get some ice–”

“Oh my god.” Your free hand flew to your forehead, jaw falling slack. “It’s your week. I’m so sorry. I completely lost track of…”

Time.

Your gut plummeted at the realization.

And just like that–reality struck you.

For a short moment, you had forgotten about the custody order.

You had even let the divorce find solace in the back of your mind. It was like everything in the past had dissipated.

Like the only important things in your life was the present; you, Sevika and your daughter.

But that wasn’t entirely true. Because, whether you wanted to accept it or not, the custody agreement did exist. And Sevika was right, ideally, she should have the day with Ava.

You feel like a cold bucket of water has been dumped on you. 

“No, you’re fine. I know it’s been–”

“I have to get going. I have a lot of work to do today.” You say. Quickly, you set Ava back on the ground before kissing her cheek. Then you’re raising on your toes to do the same with Sevika. 

“Wait,” Her hands grab your wrist. “It’s okay. Really. You can just come back here after work and have dinner with us, we–”

“I’ll let you know. I have to go, I don’t want to be late.” And you slightly tug away from her. Her grip loosens. “I love you both!”

Then you had left, not giving her time to reply. 

The slip up was minor. But it still hurts to be reminded of such a major aspect in your life that you had forgotten. 

For your entire shift, you do your best to focus on your work. The routine behind all of your data files brings you peace and helps you reground yourself.

And when lunch rolls around, you find yourself feeling like you again. Of course Sevika’s heartwarming note that she put with your food helps a lot, but you also genuinely feel like your emotions from this morning may have become slightly bigger than necessary.

Your shoulders feel lighter when you finally get off of work. It’s easier to relax on the drive back to your apartment, windows rolled down due to the slight chill in the air.  You’re excited to decompress. You’ll go home, change, then immediately call Sevika. Your apology is already rampantly running through your brain as you pull onto your driveway.

But your breath stutters when you see that Sevika’s truck is parked in front of your place. 

You freeze, mind reeling at the reflection of her vehicle in your sideview mirror. 

“What the…” 

Upon stepping out of your car, her driver door opens seconds later. You hadn’t been able to see her due to the tint of her windows, but she’s definitely recognizable in her muscle tank, faded jeans and utility boots. 

“What are you doing here?” Your skin tingles as you make your way over to her. 

She’s already opening the door to the backseat, in which you hear a joyful, “Mommy!”

“I assume you didn’t see my texts,” Sevika answers. She unbuckles Ava’s carseat with ease, as if it’s second nature. “I told you this morning, before you so kindly ran off, we’re having dinner.”

Your lips part in surprise. 

Ava gets out of her carseat eagerly–and swiftly thanks to Sevika–before she bolts towards you. You puff out a gust of air when she collides into you, wrapping her arms around your legs.

“We missed you!” She squeals.

Your eyes widen. “I-” But you don’t know what to say.

You don’t know what you can say.

“But I was going to come to you guys,” You finally explain. “I just needed to shower first. I had a whole thing planned. An endearing apology. Tak–”

“Apology?” Sevika raises her eyebrows, slinging a black duffel bag over her shoulder. She also holds a bright pink unicorn backpack. “For what?”

“For…being weird? Leaving without a proper goodbye? Forgetting that this is your week with Ava?” You shrug. “So many things. I just…it threw me off. It felt like we were in a little bubble and then it popped. I completely lost track of the week because we’ve been spending so much time together. And when you mentioned it, I felt like I had been pulled back into reality and it was a little jarring to think about going back to the custody agreement when we spent days not even worrying about it–”

“You don’t need to be sorry for that.” Sevika finally reaches you, index finger coming up to brush your chin. “I understand. It’s hard when we’re reminded of the divorce. But you don’t need to run anymore.” She tilts your chin, her lips hovering merely inches away from yours. “I promise you, I’m not going anywhere as long as you want me here. And I don’t necessarily believe that you deserve to beat yourself up over our past anymore. We have a say in how we want things to be from now on.” And she kisses you.

It’s short-lived, an agreement that the pair of you had made due to Ava’s presence. Your daughter had avidly expressed her disgust when you and Sevika kissed (a few times when Mel and Graysen did as well) so it was something that you had become more mindful of. But even though it was short, it still had the desired effect like any other kiss.

“And the custody agreement…we can totally talk through that, y’know.” She hums. “Rearrange some things…it would only make sense, right?”

You sigh softly, utterly shocked and happy and gone for her.

All you can do is nod. 

“I’m hungry.” Ava whines, tugging the material of your slacks.

“Oh, me too.” Sevika replies, pulling away from you to shoot a smile at your daughter. 

You follow them up your driveway, taking out your house key immediately.

“What’s with the bags?” You ask, eying Sevika’s duffel as your hand finds the small of her back. You allow it to rest there for a few moments, enjoying the divots of her muscles before your finger loosely hooks onto one of her belt loops. Swiftly, you hand her your house key.

Sevika unlocks your door first before answering. “As much as I’d love the idea of wearing your clothes tonight, I don’t exactly think they’d fit.”

Then she’s stepping into your apartment. 

That’s when you realize…

Ava’s overnight bag

Her duffel…

Your eyes widen.

“You’re staying the night?” And you feel embarrassed by the obvious layer of excitement in your voice.

“Of course. Did you think we’d allow you to be alone tonight?” She heels out of her boots, dropping the bags on the floor. Ava lets go of Sevika’s hand, running into the apartment and (presumably) towards her room.  “It’s a fucking Tuesday too. Who wants to be away from their family on a Tuesday?”

You bite back a laugh, rubbing your lips together as you close your door and bolt it shut.

Sevika is already helping you out of your shoes, placing them near hers when you suggest, “How does chinese takeout sound?”

*** 

You shift in your seat as Felicia stares back at you with wide silver eyes.

The silence drags on and on and on.

Then she’s reaching forward to grab her water bottle, taking long hearty gulps.

“I know it’s not what you were expecting.” You say, wincing at the understatement. “I wasn’t either. I don’t know, I think it had been building up for all those years–my feelings towards her–and then it all exploded out of me one night, exactly as you said it would.”

Felicia nods along, seemingly unable to respond as she taps her pen against her desk.

“I confessed it all to her after she told me that she and Hazel had broken up. I wanted to get everything off of my chest, to finally be 100% open and honest with her. I didn’t necessarily want anything to come out of it. I was just tired of holding everything in.” You explain. “And…well, I was shocked when I realized that she felt the same. And ever since, it’s just been…” You trail off, struggling to find the correct verbiage. “It’s like we’re getting to know each other again. Becoming acquainted with the old parts of ourselves along with the new. It’s nice.”

Felicia ponders for a few more seconds, processing everything you’re saying with the best composure that one can have in such a moment. But you can definitely tell that she’s shocked.

The air is filled with the low hum of her humidifier, her trademark scent of lemon slightly palpable as you wait patiently.

You’ve nearly gone two weeks without meeting her because even if you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you knew that this was a big deal.

Felicia had been very understanding when you rescheduled this session a little while ago, which relieved you because you had never done such a thing before.

And you were kind of glad you did, because your falling out with Mel had been a lot to deal with. You weren't sure that you would have had the mental capacity to even talk about any of this with Felicia two weeks ago, nevertheless last week. You needed that time to process it by yourself before you could bring this to her.

“Am I making a huge mistake?” You can't help but ask. Your ears pick up on the tiny hint of desperation in your voice.

It would take some persuasion on her end in order for you to outright admit it, but a part of you didn't want to disappoint Felicia. Of course you didn't want to ruin any progress and healing that you've been making within the last few years, but you also didn't want her to somehow think lowly of you. 

You respect Felicia. Tremendously so. She has seen you at your worst and somehow helped you through the toughest point in your life. She has talked wisdom and dignity and honesty and life back into you—something that no one else has ever been able to do.

So, naturally, you also worry about her genuine feelings towards your life updates. 

And, well, maybe that's another reason you were postponing this session with her.

“No.” She replies, keeping her gaze level while she sends you a gentle smile. “I don't think you're making a mistake at all.”

Your chest warms at the sincerity of her words.

“I’m telling you this off-book, fyi.” She prefaces. “But I’m not only happy for you. I’m relieved.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait. W-What?”

“I was beginning to worry that the two of you wouldn't ever reconcile.”

Owlishly, you blink at her. “Really?”

“Of course. When you first started your sessions with me and we began to unpack your life and your marriage, I quickly pieced together how hasty and grief-driven the divorce was. Even during those months, I wondered if you would call me before the next session to tell me that you were cutting ties and getting back together with Sevika.” Her grin widens a bit more. “And, rightfully so, I think I hoped that would happen, minus the part where you quit therapy. I’ve always told past clients of mine that when it comes to ending relationships with people, it's important to get to the root cause. Is it truly because you think it's best to end the relationship with them, or were you running from something? Avoiding something? Scared of something?”

Her gaze breaks from you, instead traveling down to her hands. “...And within the three years that I’ve come to know you, you’ve never voiced that you wanted to truly end your relationship with Sevika. There was always something else, some other reason, you would talk about. Whether it be about your father or your struggles with fertility or even your depression. Additional factors that can put a strain on relationships, for sure. But…the sole reason, even when I had you dig deep, never could truly lead back to Sevika…even with her grief and mental health decline considered.”

You had already come to realize that your divorce with Sevika hadn't occurred because of Sevika herself. There had been a multitude of really bad days and circumstances thrown at you, which you didn't have the knowledge or resources to healthily navigate at the time. Plus, your youth and lingering innocence hadn't helped. Sevika didn't know how to handle her grief, how to communicate and sit with her feelings in a way that wouldn't negatively impact herself and everyone around her; in a way that hadn't completely shut you out and left you feeling alone. 

And you hadn't known how to navigate your own grief— the grief of your father and your miscarriage and the overall loss that was impacting your marriage—nevertheless help carry Sevika’s. So when Sevika had finally come around, when she had apologized and tried to make it right and carry the load of everything for the both of you, you didn't let her. You had still been so hurt, unable to process and deal with it all in productive ways. You hadn't yet attended therapy like she had, so you weren't in the same place mentally that Sevika had been in. 

You wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt you. And you didn't know how to forgive her, how you could forgive her,  when all the bad things the two of you had gone through were still resting heavy on your shoulders. You were unhappy. And, at that time, the only thing you knew that could be a sure escape to such a situation was a divorce. 

It had been a cry for help. A decision that, deep down inside, you never thought you would truly follow through with. But it was the decision that, simultaneously, had caused Sevika to lose all hope. And just when you wished that she would talk you off of the ledge, just when you wished that she could come up with some solution to solve everything in a way that made sense for you, just when you had wished that she would do anything but sign those damn papers, she had done the opposite. 

It wasn't until months after the divorce, when you had begun therapy yourself, when you had the devastating realization about how much you had truly fucked up. Sevika had done what she could to stop such an outcome from happening. She had tried to make things right with you, she had put all of her therapy tools to work. And each time, you had denied her the opportunity, shutting her out even further. Moving bedrooms. Refusing to accept her apologies as you drowned deeper into your depression and hurt and sorrow.

And when you finally had the same therapy tools, it was too late. The pair of you had been separated for nearly a year at that point, living on the opposite ends of town, with a finalized divorce and custody agreement in place. That's when you surmised that you probably could never get Sevika back. And the best thing to do was to move on. 

You hadn't realized that, through it all, Felicia had seen through you so clearly. She had always pushed for you to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with Sevika. She would constantly say that it was for the betterment of your healing journey; that clarity and reconciliation would positively impact Ava’s childhood, your overall health and your co-parenting relationship with Sevika. But, not until now, had you known about any other reason as to why she was so adamant about it.

“I think that you deserve this.” Felicia continues. “This happiness you feel right now, this peace? It’s well overdue. Let those feelings take root within you. Appreciate them. This is the time where you can fully relax.”

Your eyes begin to sting as her advice clings to your heart strings.

Happiness.

Peace.

Certainly, these are words that feel quite foreign to you, especially when spoken in one breath. 

But they’re the only words that can describe your days with Sevika and Ava.

“You deserve this. You know that, right?” Felicia ponders, lifting her eyes to meet yours again. “That self-punishing cycle of repentance and guilt is not productive nor necessary anymore. Of course introspection and humility is always a part of the lived human experience. But this amazing thing is happening to you and yet you're in front of me, worrying that I’m going to condemn you for it. I know that you felt like this was out of reach. And I've grown to realize that no matter how much I told you otherwise, no one could ever truly change your mind but yourself.” She shakes her head at you knowingly, in which you laugh.

“But,” She continues. “I do hope you realize that this was never out of reach for you. Ever. You just needed to get out of auto-pilot and see that you have the control. And for the foreseeable future, you now get to choose to enjoy every waking day with your family.”

For a few seconds, you believe that her eyes have become increasingly glossy. And your breath catches when you notice how rapidly she's blinking. But the moment is gone before you can fully process it.

“You and Sevika did what you could with what you had. You hadn't known any better.” Felicia concludes. “Life threw the two of you a great deal of things within such a small time frame. The problems you were facing would overwhelm and challenge anyone, nevertheless a young newlywed couple. You're human. You made mistakes. You learned from them. Now, all you can do is live. Be happy that you have this second chance. Be grateful that you have more tools and knowledge than you did the first time around. And let yourself move forward from all of this.”

You wipe the free-falling tears from your cheeks, sniffing as you croak, “Y’know…Sevika said something somewhat similar a few days ago.”

Felicia laughs. 

We have a say in how we want things to be from now on.

That day replays in your mind once again: how Sevika and Ava surprised you at your apartment, the way Sevika had so readily embraced you. How she had murmured those words to you, her eyes dancing with sincerity before she kissed you. And then the three of you spent the night in your apartment, Sevika hanging some of her clothes in your closet while you and Ava watched the television from your bed. 

The following days felt similiar—a blur of laughter and cuddles and peace and love. 

So much love.

“I’m starting to realize that moving forward is the hardest part. I think it’s from a fear of what’s next. Like, where do we go from here?”

Felicia tilts her head. “Where do you want to go from here?” 

And you don't think you’ve been asked that question yet.

There's been a whole lot of assumptions of where you should be going. Ideally, somewhere in the distant future, a situation where you and Sevika are co-habiting again; where you're raising Ava as a unit in love instead of as co-parents. 

And although that sounds nice, although it feels right, the timeline of it all is what freaks you out. The details of how to get there is what seems harrowing.

When you express that to Felicia, she simply nods.

“That's because your brain hasn't caught up to your heart yet. It’s only been two weeks of you rekindling with her. You're definitely not in the place to be putting a pressure like this on yourself. How about you just focus on the present for now? And when you can think about the possible future without triggering a panic attack, we can revisit such a question. Try the grounding techniques we use to talk about. Whe-”

“But ruminating myself into a panic attack is kind of my shtick. C’mon Fel, I thought you knew that by now.”

She rolls her eyes, another laugh leaving her as smile lines appear. “...And maybe your friends can help you stay in the moment more. Do they know about your relationship with Sevika?”

And suddenly, you're reminded that you hadn't quite updated Felicia on everything. 

“Yeah…about that. “ A snicker escapes you. “We initially hadn't told them and it kind of had the opposite effect than we intended. Especially with Mel. Shit sort of…hit the fan to be honest. I mean, it's all okay now. But for a moment I really got scared that Sevika and I’s decision had negatively changed the dynamic of our friend group. More importantly, my friendship with Mel.”

Felicia’s posture straightens. She leans forward, elbows resting against her desk as her ears visibly perk up. “What do you mean?”

***

Autumn is right around the corner on the day that your car breaks down and the anxiety that floods you is overwhelming.

“No,” You mumble, reinserting your key in the ignition. “Don’t do this. Not now.”

But your car doesn’t budge.

Cars honk behind you due to the green light.

Your eyes begin to prickle with tears.

“No, no, no…”

Traffic zooms past you on both sides, locking you inside of your car. It’s too dangerous to try and step out. 

The last time this happened, you had to pay more money than you ever thought possible, which drained your savings (and consequently took forever to build up again).

At that moment, your mom calls again, causing your heart to stop.

“Mom,” You wince. “I’m sorry…I know. My car just broke down–”

“What?”

“I need to call to get it off the road. I–”

“Are you okay?”

You can tell she’s panicking.

“...And I need to call Sev to let her know. She’ll be wondering…God.”

“Sev?” Your mom pauses. Then, “Oh, do you think she’d tow for you? Maybe take a look at it–”

“The shop.”

And that’s when it dawns on you.

Of course–that was it.

The last time this happened, you and Sevika hadn’t been on good enough terms for you to feel comfortable enough to ask such a favor. But things are much different now than a year ago. She wasn’t just someone that you could go to for help; she was so much more.

“Do you want me to call her?” Your mom continues. “Not that I’d think she’d ever tell you no but I know that sometimes the two of you can be a bit…short with one another–”

“No!” You cut her off before you can think better of it. “Um, I mean, I can do it. I don’t mind.”

You wince, remembering once again that you have yet to inform your mom about the recent developments between you and Sevika. You’ve been wanting to tell her, especially the last few times that she has called. But time has been passing by so fast and life has been so busy lately...

Then, within the blink of an eye, the day had arrived to pick your mom up from the airport. She had flown in for Mel and Graysen’s vow renewal ceremony. It was a plan that she confirmed with you over a month ago but it still feels like you need more time.

More time with Sevika before telling your mom; more time in this peaceful little bubble before it’s popped.

“Can I call you back?” You ask. “I’ll see if Gert is available to get you while I’m dealing with this.”

“And interrupt her day?” Your mom sounds baffled. “I can just Uber to your place, you know.”

Oh god–your apartment!

You’ve spent most of this week at Sevika’s house, which means that you’ve barely had time to settle into your own place, nevertheless prepare it for your mother’s visit.

“Don’t do that. It’s–everything will be fine. Stay at the airport for now. Please.”

Before your mom can say anything further, you hang up.

***

When your car is fixed, you’re relieved. Your brain is in overdrive from watching countless episodes of a cartoon show on Ava’s tablet. Your stomach is filled with bottles of lukewarm water and hotdogs (that the workers were kind enough to offer you on their lunch break). 

Ava sits on your right hip, her head resting on your shoulder while she silently looms in and out of sleep.

Throughout your wait in the lobby, you’ve noticed the receptionists discreetly looking at you and whispering to each other. But their gazes are more pressing when Gert advances towards you.

“Do you owe them money or something?” Your mom mutters, lowering her voice so only you can hear. You know that she’s referring to the desk workers: a pair of girls that look several years younger. They seem nosy at best, strangely attuned to your presence the moment that Gert dropped you and your Mom off at the shop. But they were harmless.

“Maybe we’re the most entertainment that they’ve received all day,” You mumble back, which causes your mother to snicker. Gert seems to hear the tailend of your comment, shooting you a quizzical look as she stops in front of you.

Mom juts her chin towards the receptionists, “Your desk cronies haven’t stopped staring at us since we’ve arrived. That wouldn't do well for your business with a typical customer, y’know.”

Gert looks over her shoulder.

Immediately, the girls turn away.

“Oh,” Then Gert laughs, running a hand through her blue locs. “...They're that interested? Well, I suppose it's been a while.” She turns towards you, her eyes glinting while her lips stretch into a lopsided grin. “You haven't been here since…damn, that was like the first 2 months we opened this shop. I think they're just shocked s’all, the boys couldn't believe you made it here too.”

Your posture straightens in realization.

There's only a few of Sevika’s staff members that you remember, considering it’s been years since you’ve stepped into this place. Hell, you barely recognized the building due to all the remodeling that's been done. But there are a few faces that come to mind upon Gert mentioning the boys.

Your eyes flicker back to the front desk and you try your best to backtrack your memories. Nothing comes to mind within that moment but it definitely seems like those girls remember you.

Your brain comes to a halt when Sevika walks into the lobby. She's sporting a white tank top, the opposite of her usual button-ups, and worn jeans.

When her eyes land on you, she heads towards you without hesitation.

You hadn't been able to see her earlier, only speaking to her on the phone for a short amount of time before she sent Gert to you. From the conversation, you could tell that she was stressing over you being in such a situation. But, as she currently stands in front of you, that worry seems to have completely vanished.

She’s drenched in sweat with smudges of dirt and grease lining the sides of her face.

You avert your eyes and avoid the rumbling of your tummy.

“I’m dirty,” She mutters, apparently trying to warn you as you draw closer.

You disregard the comment, not being able to care as your free arm wraps around her neck. Standing on your tip toes, you whisper, “Hi,” In greeting. Because that's all you can think to say, merely grateful to finally have her in your arms after such a long day.

She hesitates before hugging you back, forearms pressing against the small of your back while she hums, “What perfume is that?”

You blink, “...Don't know. It was in your bathroom. I though–”

“Thought so.” She pulls you tighter. “Smells nice on you.”

Then Gert is clapping, causing you to jump.

“You know I love love.” She interjects. “But it's getting late and–”

“Shit. Of course.” Sevika pulls away, stepping back a pace. Suddenly, you feel colder. “Go home, Gert. I'll take it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You've helped enough.”

Then she’s hugging Gert, murmuring some more words that are inaudible to you.

In the midst of this, you're reminded of where you are. Inside Sevika's shop with Ava on your hip and your mom by your side.

As if your thoughts have called out directly to her, your mom clears her throat. 

And when you glance at her, your gut stirs at the way she glances at Sevika. Then you. Then Sevika again.

Her eyebrows have lifted, eyes dancing with an unspoken interest that has you wanting to crawl underneath a rock.

“Go home soon and get some rest, yeah?” Gert practically orders. Her arm drapes over your shoulder while she kisses your temple. “You and Ava need it.”

You take that as an opportunity to ignore Mom’s imploring gaze, leaning into Gert’s embrace for a few seconds. Simultaneously, Sevika is smiling at your mother, wrapping her into a tight hug while whispering, “Hi mom.”

“Thank you for today.” You peer at Gert. “How much do I owe y’all?” 

“Huh?”

“How much will it be?”

That catches Sevika’s attention, who lifts her brows quizzically. 

“The repair,” You clarify. “What do I need to pay?”

Sevika’s jaw flexes as she runs her tongue against her top teeth. There’s a slight shake of her head. “You won’t.” 

Your heart drops.

“I will,” Your voice breaks as you try to wrap your brain around the incredibility of her statement.  All of this work for free? No.

Absolutely not.

“I’m paying you,” Your voice doesn’t waver this time.

Sevika hums softly; seemingly unimpressed. 

“Sev—”

“It’s nothing.” 

You try to stand your ground. A part of you is convinced that the longer you remain staring at her, the more likely she’ll lose her resolve. But if anything, that seems to strengthen it.

You know how much car repairs cost nowadays. Parts are expensive. Plus, there were the time constraints involved in addition to the heavy labor. You’d already been trying to calculate tip money. Within 20 minutes of arriving at the shop, Gert had informed you that Sevika would be working on your car.

The announcement shocked you because Sevika barely worked on cars now. She had a lot on her plate when it came to managing the business, working out deals with nearby companies and communicating with community members. But it seemed that she didn't want anyone else touching your vehicle besides herself, probably some sort of insurance on her end that she could provide you with the best repair service. 

Knowing that she had been relentlessly working on your car the last few hours was sweet. But it definitely wasn't sweet enough for you to overlook paying her. 

Sevika takes this moment as an opportunity to meet your gaze head on. Her lips part, a simple action that calls your attention like blaring alarm bells. How can someone look so good even when they're this dirty?

Despite your ruse of annoyance, you know that she means nothing short of compassion.

During these past few weeks, you’ve noticed that compassion is always the first thing that Sevika gives you–even during the moments when you wish she wouldn't.

“Let me pay you,” You press on, voice melting into something gentler. “If not for the repairs then at least for the tow. Gert had to come all the way across town—””

“I didn't mind.” Gert interjects. “It's not like we were in the middle of a rush anyways…had nothing else to do.”

Ava stirs in your arms, causing you to shift your weight.

“...But even if I had a say,” Gert continues, swiftly reaching across to press her knuckles against Sevika’s core. “Ms. Charming over here wouldn't have it any other way.”

“I take care of me and mine.” Sevika shrugs, swatting Gert’s hands away. “Plus, that’s kinda what comes with being the boss, smartass. You should just be happy I spared you the free labor.”

“Oh, I'm ecstatic." Gert grins, eyebrows wiggling before her orbs fall to you. “But is it really free if there's others ways your wife will be paying you—”

“Oh my god.” Your eyes squint shut for a few seconds. “Need I remind you that my child is literally in my arms right now.”

Within the same breath, you hear shuffling feet before Sevika grumbles, “Don't make it weird, dummy.”

“You cancelled your meeting and made a whole scene about the entire staff staying away from your wife's car, just so you could do all of the repairs for free and I’m the one making things weird?” Gert snickers. When you open your eyes, you witness Sevika holding her in a headlock. “Dude, I can't even be within the vicinity of you two without witnessing y’all practically dryhumping each other…Shit is already weird.”

Your muscles tense as you say, “Ex-wife, by the way.”

Gert finally frees herself from Sevika's hold and her eyes widen while she laughs breathlessly. “...Which is even weirder!”

“I’m sorry.” Your mom interrupts. “Am I…missing something?”

Just when you think that Gert’s eyes can’t get any wider, they nearly bug out of her head. Her jaw falls slack, an expression of realization morphing onto her features before they shift to amusement. 

“Well, yeah.” You respond at the same moment that Gert whispers, “a shit ton.” Gert tries to contain her mirth when you shoot her a pointed glare but it doesn't do much. Things have already become awkward.

“Are you hungry?” Sevika directs her question to Mom. “There’s a bunch of leftover pasta from last night. We can have dinner after closing up the shop? Maybe explain everything to you then.”

Your mom tilts her head. “We?”

You don’t have the courage to address such a conversation now. Not in the middle of Sevika’s workplace, with Gert and the rest of Sevika’s employees somewhere within earshot. Explaining you and Sevika’s relationship requires a level of vulnerability that you can’t readily access in an environment like this. Sevika had been right to address having such conversation over dinner, within the comfort of your own home and away from watchful eyes.

Plus, the thought of decompressing at Sevika’s country house, a place that has quickly become your safe haven, was all too tempting.

“Yes. Dinner sounds great.” You conclude, already turning to head towards the entrance door. “Is my car ready to be driven? I can follow behind you, Sev.”

***

And when you tell your Mom everything, her reaction is not what you expected.

Maybe it’s because the instant your friends found out, it was a huge ordeal.

Similarly, the moment you confessed everything to Felicia had also felt pretty large.

And the media that Sevika had posted on her socials, consisting of heartfelt candids that she captured of you, also seemed to spark a lot of attention from her following.

But when you sit at the dinner table with your mom, she listens silently while holding your hand. Sevika is across from the both of you, a sleeping Ava in her arms, while she respectfully watches, allowing you to express everything that you need to.

And then, in a low murmur so that she doesn't wake your daughter, Sevika begins to speak too. 

“I just couldn't live another day like I was.” She explains. “And I know we fucked it up the first time around. We made a lot of mistakes and you have helped us so much during the separation. But I promise that I have no other intention but to love your daughter the best I can. Wholeheartedly, faithfully and intentionally. With every fiber of my being.”

Your heart gallops in your chest as you watch Sevika talk to your mom. It’s unbelievable to hear her say such words but it feels relieving all the same.

You don't think anyone could ever be as beautiful as her; externally or internally.

“And…maybe this is a lot to ask of you since you're just now finding all of this out,” Sevika continues, swallowing thickly. “I don't know if I’d ever be worthy enough for you to welcome me as your daughter-in-law again. And maybe we will never get back to that stage. But to have your support—your blessing—in us continuing to love each other would be great. It would mean the world to me.”

Your breath catches at the sound of her words, which is quite audible due to the silence in the air. 

Your mom squeezes your hand before pulling away. She places both palms on the dining room table, stretching across the space and towards Sevika. Without hesitation, Sevika uses one arm to balance Ava’s weight while she intertwines her free hand with your mom’s.

“You never stopped being my daughter.” Mom rasps, her voice thick with emotion. You can tell those words melt straight through to Sevika. “And if Archie was still here, I'm absolutely certain that he’d say the same. In fact, he’s probably been rolling in his grave due to how long it’s taken you both to come back to each other.”

You can't help but laugh at the thought.

If your dad was still alive, he’d probably have called for an intervention between you and Sevika the very moment a divorce was mentioned. There was a running joke in the family that he loved Sevika more than he loved you. And although you know that he loved you both equally, it was a no brainer that he adored your ex-wife. They had bonded over many things; hobbies and interests that you never cared for growing up. It was, ultimately, the reason why Sevika took your father’s death the hardest.

“Oh mom.” You immediately coo when you realize that she’s crying.

She shrugs, smiling half-heartedly while glancing between you and Sevika.

“You two don't realize how many nights I stayed awake because I was hoping—praying—that this day would come.” She sniffs. “Granted, I think it's truly a wonder that it took 3 years for you both to come back to each other. I’ve never known a more oblivious pair of girls to ever exist in all honesty.”

The room erupts with laughter, your heart jumping with joy.

“But I am happy that it's happened.” She concludes. She uses her other hand to wipe your tears and this moment feels sacred: the way she holds Sevika’s hand while she comforts you. “Finally.” 

The lump in your throat won't go away and it's annoying how runny your nose becomes. But you do your best to cling onto this moment, to cling onto this feeling, because you never thought you'd be in such a position merely two months ago.

“So, are we staying here for the weekend then?” Mom questions, turning to you.

Your lips part. “Oh, right. Well, I hadn't planned on it. We can head back to mine tomorrow morning and—”

“No. Stay.” Sevika decides.”There's more than enough room here anyway.”

You find yourself doing that thing again—where you worry about overcrowding her house and somehow becoming a guest that she doesn't welcome.

But you also know that she's very intentional with her requests and that she wouldn't ask the both of you to spend the weekend with her unless she truly means it.

“Sev—”

“Wouldn't you be with me if it were any other weekend?” She questions, already knowing what you're about to stay. “I love you both. This house wasn't made with the intention of me being alone in it anyway. It would be a nice weekend together. Plus, I’m sure Ava would love it. So, why not?”

You shake your head, biting off a smile. “But I had planned for Mom to stay at my apartment. I don't want you to think I’m springing this on you, or that I’m being selfish in assuming that you’re okay with—”

“Be selfish all you want. This place is for you too,” Her eyes soften. “You know that.”

The air becomes too charged due to how she looks at you.

It's always been like this but even more so recently. She makes it hard for you to blink, to breathe, to merely function when she says such things. 

“And I ask again,” Mom laughs, turning to you with a gentle smile. “How did you manage to be oblivious for three years when she looks at you like that?”

And for the first time in forever, you agree with your mom.

***

You want to be more selfish.

It’s the thought that rings over and over in your brain when you're sitting on Sevika, her cool comforter underneath the both of you, while she peers up at you with slightly wide eyes. Unsurprisingly, you have been feeling incredibly sappy after spending the night with her and your mom. And when you feel sappy, your desire for her increases tenfold.

“I want to be selfish with you,” You find yourself whispering. The stillness of the night makes your confession all the more exhilarating. “My brain always gets in the way and I start thinking about the what-ifs and how you may react to certain things—and if I’ll somehow scare you away—but you're the one thing in my life that I’ve desperately wanted. Beyond anything else. I know earlier that you told me to be selfish more and I need you to know that I want to. There’s days where I just want you all to myself…days when I wish adulting could pause for a moment so I don’t have to share you with the world.” Your fingers find solace at the nape of her neck, scratching her scalp absentmindedly. 

Her eyes flicker and she hums pleasantly, “Keep saying things like that and you’ll do the opposite of scare me away.”

You smile. “It's just the truth. You make me want in a way that’s been foreign to me for so long.”

“In a good way or…”

“In the best way.” Smoothly, you brush your nose against hers. “I think about too many possibilities. Of being here with you again—permanently. Maybe a sibling for Ava, another little one to run around with her and join in on her shenanigans with Lianna. A—”

“You really shouldn't threaten me with such a good time.” She whispers, tightening her grip before she flips you onto your back. A squeak escapes your lips as she hovers over you. “...Keep talking like that and I’ll make sure every one of those wishes come true.” 

*** 

Time flies by.

You soak up all the time that you can with Sevika. 

Some mornings, Ava runs into the bedroom and nestles in between the both of you. Other mornings, you’re up before Sevika, balcony doors cracked open while you enjoy the chilly air.

You work hard but not too hard. Sevika makes sure of it.

You do the same for her; carrying whatever load she needs you to carry for the day.

She cooks and you clean.

She obsesses over occasional house repairs with you.

Her laughter is ridiculously loud but it’s one of the things you love the most.

That and her breathtaking smile.

The custody agreement fades away. 

The days of juggling time with Ava quickly dissipates and it's just the three of you. A team. A unit.

A family.

You rinse the dishes and she puts them away.

You find time to tend to her front yard (and, you suppose, your front yard too). You end up planting a garden there.

You try not to think too far into the future. But in the short moments that you do, you find ways to calm your brain because you know that no matter what, you’ll be okay. No matter what, you’ll still have her by your side.

So, for the time being, you enjoy every waking day the best that you can.

When the sun is out, you bask in the weather.

When it’s gloomy, you appreciate the comforting hum of the rain. 

When night comes, you never hesitate to tell Sevika you love her.

And when dawn arrives, you silently thank the world that you get to spend another day by her side.

“This is good,” You whisper.

Sevika is in between your legs, bundled up in a warm blanket while her head rests on your chest. She had been mindlessly scrolling on her phone but she pauses due to your words, “What is?”

“This life. This feeling.” And your hands are inside of her shirt, nails soothingly tracing her back upon her request. “Promise me another 50 years of this?”

“...Only 50?”

“...Can you guarantee me more than that? Are you immortal?”

She cuddles further into you. “No. But I can promise you every day until we’re next to each other in a cemetery somewhere.”

Your nose crinkles. “Bleak.”

She kisses your left inner forearm. “Romantic.” She corrects.

You concede because, despite your teasing, her promises are enough. More than enough.

The past three years of turmoil and uncertainty don’t have a fighting chance against the blooming feeling currently in your chest.

“Well, if that’s the case,” You rest your chin on top of her head. “I can do romantic.”

She grabs a hold of your hand. She squeezes it.

She doesn’t say anything more and she doesn’t need to.

Subconsciously, your shoulders relax as you breathe deeply. 

It’s comforting to inhale air that smells like her.

Reality reminds you of where you are and how you got here; that everything turned out okay in the end. 

The unspoken certainty in the air; the sunshine peaking through the bedroom window. 

Your rushing blood and the warmth of your bodies keeping each other grounded. 

Nothing else could ever amount to this.