kee

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

Her hand lifted, resting on your back. “There is nothing to apologise for, little one.”

The clinic was quiet. Too quiet.

You had discovered that medical buildings possessed a very specific kind of silence. Not true silence – there were always distant footsteps, phones ringing somewhere far away, muted conversations behind closed doors – but a silence heavy with waiting.

Waiting for answers, waiting for results, waiting for news that might change everything.

You hated it.

Across from you and Ambessa, Mel was typing away on her phone, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. She’d cancelled that evening’s date with one of her regulars, so was working to keep him sweet by sending him photos of her shoes in-between saucy texts.

Beside you sat Ambessa, looking entirely out of place in the small consultation room. The older woman occupied the space the way a warship occupied a harbour: calmly, confidently, and with the implicit understanding that she belonged wherever she chose to be.

You sat beside your mother-figure, trying very hard not to think.

Unfortunately, thinking was proving difficult to avoid.

The tests themselves hadn’t bothered you – you were, unfortunately, rather accustomed to peeing in cups and having your blood drawn, though you did hate the throat, vaginal, and rectal swabs you’d had to do.

It was the reason for the tests that still tormented you immensely.

Maddie.

Every time you thought back to the conversation in Ambessa’s office, your jaw tightened and your heart pounded.

The confessions, the lies, the sheer selfishness of it all.

Maddie had been sleeping with Cait and Vi whilst dating you.

That alone had been devastating.

Learning she’d also been seeing other clients for the entire duration of your relationship and keeping everything hidden from you elevated the entire situation from heartbreaking to infuriating.

“You look angry.”

You glanced up and across at Mel, whom was still typing away. You sighed. “I was thinking about Maddie again.”

Ambessa continued to read the emails on her tablet. “If it helps, little one: she is a fool who never deserved you.”

You shook your head. “I thought we’d get married, you know? Be together forever. Y/N Nolen, or maybe L/N-Nolen, Nolen-L/N. Before my diagnosis, I genuinely thought I’d found The One. Marriage, a home, kids one day…”

Mel snapped a picture of her foot, then resumed typing. “Well, now you can have that with two rich, gorgeous women who actually know your worth.”

Before you could respond, a knock sounded at the door. The room immediately stilled.

The elderly doctor entered, carrying a folder. “Thank you for waiting, ladies.”

“We appreciate you getting the results so quickly,” Ambessa said smoothly, closing and putting down her tablet.

You clasped your hands together, sitting up in the leather seat. Mel put her phone away and crossed the room to stand by your side, her warm hand resting on your back.

The doctor opened the folder. “I’ve reviewed all of your results – the urine and blood samples, and all the swabs.”

You felt yourself stop breathing.

“Your STI panel is completely clear.”

The tension vanished so abruptly you almost laughed, so you groaned instead. “Ohhh.” Relief flooded through you, slumping back in the chair, your hands over your face.

Beside you, Mel visibly relaxed. “That’s great news, angel,” she smiled, rubbing your shoulder.

Ambessa nodded. “Very good news, indeed.”

The doctor nodded. “Everything came back negative. HIV, chlamydia, syphilis… Everything. You have no sexually transmitted infections whatsoever, and no sign of ever having had one in the past.”

For a few seconds, the room felt lighter. The entire reason you were all sat in that office was suddenly resolved.

You were already imagining leaving, and hopefully never thinking about Maddie again.

Then the doctor hesitated. “There is one thing I need to mention.”

And suddenly the room felt cold again.

Every muscle in your body tightened. Mel and Ambessa straightened.

The doctor glanced down at the paperwork. “One of the markers in your blood work came back elevated.”

You frowned. “What… W-What does that mean?”

The doctor’s expression remained carefully neutral. He was clearly picking his words carefully. “It may mean nothing.”

The statement immediately terrified you… You knew enough about medicine to know that doctors only said it may mean nothing when it might mean something.

Dr Reveck continued. “We occasionally see elevated results for a variety of benign reasons: infection; inflammation; certain medications; even a laboratory variation or human error.”

You nodded, your legs starting to shake.

Then the doctor took a breath. “There is another possibility you should investigate.”

The room seemed to shrink.

You knew what he was about to say. Before the words were spoken, you knew.

The doctor looked directly at you. “Given your medical history, we can’t ignore the possibility that this could indicate recurrence.”

The world stopped.

For a moment, you genuinely heard nothing.

Not the air conditioning in the office, or the traffic outside… Not even your own breathing.

Just a dull ringing somewhere deep inside your skull.

Recurrence.

Cancer.

Cancer again.

No.

No.

No.

You had beaten it. You had done the treatment. You had taken the pills, suffered the chemo, had the surgery.

You had survived. You had fought for every miserable, painful step of recovery.

And you had survived.

The doctor’s voice seemed very far away, as if he were at the bottom of a well. “I’m not saying that’s what this is.”

You stared at him, unable to move, unable to think.

“At this stage, all you have is a single elevated result. You will need to see your regular oncologist for further scans and testing. We can’t conclude anything at this time.”

Your ears started ringing, your vision falling into a tunnel.

A large hand closed around yours.

Ambessa.

Neither woman spoke; they were simply there.

You swallowed, your throat feeling painfully tight. “How likely is it?”

The question barely sounded like your own voice.

The doctor didn’t answer immediately. “I really can’t say; I’m not an oncologist.”

Just a simple, yet brutally honest response.

The room fell silent again.

Beside you, Mel moved her hand from your back to your other hand, squeezing tightly.

Ambessa sprang into action, lifting her head to speak to Dr Reveck. “Who is the best oncologist in the city?”

You spoke softly. “My oncologist was-”

“We can afford better than that now, Y/N,” she said firmly. “Reveck, any recommendations?”

He nodded back at her, handing her a slip of paper with a name on it. “Heimerdinger is the best of the best. He’s very busy, though. So, call sooner rather than later.”

Ambessa was already standing, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Thank you, Dr Reveck.” She touched your upper arm with surprising gentleness. “Come on, little one. It is time to go.”

You stood numbly, following Ambessa and Mel out of the room, only vaguely hearing Ambessa speaking on the phone.

“…For Professor Heimerdinger, yes. … No, it must be today. … I understand the Professor is very busy, but were he to make time in his schedule for my client, I can assure you he will be compensated thoroughly, as well as yourself for assisting in getting this appointment booked – you can charge everything to the Medarda account. … Yes, I said Medarda.”

Despite the fear threatening to overwhelm you, despite the ringing in your ears and the awful knot forming in your stomach, you knew one thing.

Whatever came next – scans, tests, waiting for answers – you would not be facing it alone.

“How much did you offer him?” you asked Ambessa meekly, trying not to wince at your sore throat.

You’d been rushed in to Professor Heimerdinger’s clinic and taken straight back for an upper endoscopy – an exam you were regrettably familiar with. Mel had been allowed to hold your hand as you were given a mild sedative for the tube that was going to go down your throat, whilst Ambessa sorted out the sizeable payment and charitable donation to the Professor’s research project.

Heimerdinger himself did the procedure – a short, bubbly man with white hair and a large moustache – but the medication meant you didn’t remember a single second of it. A small mercy for the day.

It only took 15 minutes, and then you were wheeled out into a recovery room where Mel and Ambessa waited for you. Mel wiped away your drool without complaint when you were too groggy to do so; Ambessa held a small cup of water to your lips when the nurse said you were able to swallow.

Ambessa shrugged off your question. “A seven-figure donation to his research.”

“Seven?” you balked, Mel and the nurse helping you sit up in the bed.

“A drop in the ocean,” she waved her hand.

The nurse eased you back against the fluffed-up pillows. “The doctor is reviewing the camera footage now; he’ll be with you as soon as he’s done.”

“Thaaaank yoooou,” you mumbled, still a little loopy from the sedative.

“Thank you,” Ambessa said firmly, closing the door behind the nurse.

As you sit up in the bed, slowly coming back to your senses, sipping on water, memories you had spent years trying to bury came rushing back with uncomfortable clarity. There had once been a period of your life when hospitals had consumed everything. Your schedule had revolved around appointments. Your future had revolved around test results. Entire weeks had been planned around scans, treatments, and blood work.

You had fought so hard to leave that part of your life behind.

“Hey.”

You didn’t answer, your gaze remained fixed on a spot on the wall across from you.

“Hey. Angel.”

The gentle tone finally broke through.

You swallowed hard. “What?”

The single word sounded fragile.

Mel’s expression softened immediately. The confidence and humour she usually carried had vanished, replaced by genuine concern. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, resting her elbow on the bed next to her, leaning her head on her hand.

You laughed softly, but the sound held no amusement whatsoever. “What am I thinking about?” you repeated. “I’m thinking about the fact that I might have cancer again.”

Eventually Ambessa leaned forward slightly in the chair next to the bed. “You do not know that yet, little one.”

You looked at her sharply. “What if it is back? What if the marker wasn’t a mistake? What if they find something on the scan? What if I have to go through treatment again?”

Your voice grew increasingly strained with each question. The fear you’d been fighting all afternoon was finally beginning to spill out.

“What if it spread somewhere? What if it’s worse this time? I only had a 50-50 chance last time; what will I have now?”

“Angel,” Mel interrupted gently. “We don’t even know the cancer’s back yet,” she attempted to soothe, but you didn’t listen.

“Of course it’s back!” you cried, tears starting to stream down your face. “Because the universe hates me that much! My abusive family come back and harass me; I lose my fucking job; my ex who abandoned me when I had cancer turns up and was actually cheating on me our entire relationship with the two women I now love—Why wouldn’tthe cancer come back? Just to tie everything up in a neat little bow! And then they’ll leave me!”

Ambessa spoke up firmly. "If the cancer has returned – which is not yet confirmed – then we will deal with it. And Caitlyn and Violet will not abandon you as Madeleine did.”

“Of course they will! Why wouldn’t they? They don’t want to deal with what the cancer will bring. The appointments, the medication, the chemo, the fucking round-the-clock vomiting… What if my hair falls out this time? I got lucky last time!”

Mel nodded. “Funky eyelashes and two years of free Brazilians,” she joked.

You frowned at her, your face twisted with fear.

“They can handle whatever comes,” Mel assured more seriously. “And Kiramman money can buy you the best wigs in the world.”

Your eyes slipped out of focus, staring off into space. “There’s bound to be a cancer fetish community out there; I’ll have to make money-”

“Enough!” Ambessa snapped. “Caitlyn and Violet will not abandon you. Do not put them in the same category as that girl.”

Mel nodded. “Mother’s right. You can’t compare two golden apples to a rotten orange. One of those people cheated on you whilst fucking an unknown number of strangers, putting you at an incredible risk for disease; the other two rearrange their entire work schedules if you mention having a headache.”

Despite everything, a small laugh escaped your throat.

Mel pointed triumphantly. “See?”

Across from you both, Ambessa nodded once. “If the cancer has returned,” she said carefully, “Then Caitlyn and Violet will remain exactly where they are.”

You looked down at your hands, sniffling.

Ambessa continued. “They will attend appointments. They will sit beside you during treatments. They will drive doctors mad by asking countless questions. Violet will almost certainly threaten somebody at least once, ensuring I am kept busy.”

That earned a reluctant smile.

“It wouldn’t be a good threat, either,” Mel added. "Very emotional. Poorly worded.”

“Quite possibly, Mel.” Ambessa’s expression softened slightly. “They love you. Beyond words. They will not leave if you become ill. Not now, not ever.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

You felt tears threatening again, though these ones came from somewhere different: not fear, but the simple certainty that still struggled to believe you deserved that kind of devotion.

Eventually Mel squeezed your hand. “You’ve skipped about twenty steps ahead, like you always do.”

You looked over. “What?”

“You’ve gone from one slightly abnormal blood result to being abandoned and dying.”

The bluntness startled an unwilling laugh out of you.

Mel smiled. “So, chill the fuck out. Okay?”

You giggled nervously, forcing yourself to exhale slowly. “Okay.”

There was finally a knock on the recovery room door.

Ambessa called for whoever it was to come in.

Professor Heimerdinger came in, carrying a file. He was humming a happy, bouncy tune, which actually did nothing to comfort you – he seemed like the kind of doctor that could deliver a terminal diagnosis whilst whistling a jaunty song.

“Good afternoon, ladies. Well, it’s evening by now. I’m sorry I kept you waiting; I was just conferring with a colleague to ensure we had the best understanding of your case.”

You searched his face desperately for clues. A smile – was it concern? Sympathy? Pity?

But Professor was impossible to read. He crossed the room to the computer, lifting himself up into the stool at the standing desk.

He tapped away on the keyboard, clearing his throat. “I have to say, Ms Medarda, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen someone move through the referral system quite so efficiently.”

Ambessa’s expression remained completely neutral. “I can imagine. I only hope my donation will benefit your research.”

The Professor smiled. “It will, thank you. And I have heard impressive things about your own work over the years.”

Ambessa nodded politely.

You stared at both of them in disbelief.

What were they doing?

Your heart felt as though it was attempting to punch its way out of your chest.

The Professor continued. “Your foundation’s continued support of—”

“Professor,” Ambessa’s voice wasn’t rude, nor particularly sharp, but it carried enough authority to halt the conversation instantly. “My compliments can wait.” She nodded her head in your direction. “My client is anxiously awaiting her results.”

You could have kissed her.

The Professor immediately abandoned the small talk. “Of course.” He looked back at the screen, typing away much faster than you had thought possible for his short fingers.

“You’re clear.”

You felt yourself stop breathing.

The Professor looked back at you. And smiled.

A real smile.

Your brain didn’t process it immediately; you were too frightened, too prepared for disaster.

“W… What?”

The Professor looked directly at you. “Your scan is completely clear, my dear.”

For a moment, nobody moved.

The words entered the room, hung there, and simply refused to make sense.

You stared at him, unspeaking.

Obviously used to dealing with stunned patients, he smiled wider and continued. “The endoscopy was clear.”

Still nothing: your mind couldn’t seem to catch up.

The Professor flicked through the images in the computer, shaking his head. “There is no evidence of recurrent disease; no signs of tumours or growths. Your cancer has not returned.”

You continued staring, barely feeling Mel and Ambessa squeeze your hands.

He realised you weren’t processing the information, and his smile softened. “You do not have cancer, Y/N. You are completely healthy. You do not have cancer.”

Something inside you cracked, like a rope pulled too tight finally snapped. A weight suddenly vanished from your very soul.

The first sound that escaped you wasn’t a laugh, or a cheer.

It was a sob. A single broken sound.

Then another.

Your hands flew to your face. “Oh gods.”

The words dissolved into tears.

Beside you, Mel stood up out of her chair, wrapping her arms around you tightly, pulling you into a tight hug. “Fucking hell, angel.”

You collapsed against her, sobbing.

The tension you’d been carrying all afternoon – and perhaps even for the past several years – seemed to leave your body all at once.

Next to you, Ambessa’s composure finally cracked. She gripped your thigh, squeezing and rubbing reassuringly. Her shoulders slightly lowered, and she exhaled the smallest breath.

For her, that was practically an emotional outburst.

The Professor waited patiently while you cried into Mel’s shoulder.

After a minute, you managed to look up. “Really? Seriously? I’m… I’m okay?”

The Professor nodded immediately. “Really.” He turned the computer’s monitor around so you could all see, and pointed to the scan images. “There is no sign of recurrence; no suspicious masses; no evidence of metastatic disease. Everything looks excellent.”

You stared at the images, but didn’t understand any of them. But you understood the smile on the Professor’s face, you understood the certainty in his voice.

And suddenly you were crying again.

Mel laughed through tears of her own. “Oh, thank God.”

The relief was simply too enormous for anyone to speak for a minute.

Eventually the Professor closed your file. “You’re welcome to come back for periodic check-ups, but as things stand today, there is no evidence that your cancer has returned.”

The words felt like a beam of sunlight on your very soul.

The Professor left shortly afterwards, wishing you the very best of luck for the future, playfully saying he never wanted to see you again.

The moment the door closed behind him, you buried your face in your hands again.

This time you were half-sobbing, half-laughing. Just completely overwhelmed.

Mel wrapped both arms around you, pulling you against her side as she perched on the bed. “See?”

You laughed wetly. “Shut up.”

“How many times have I told you not to skip to the worst-case scenario every time?”

“Shut up,” you repeated.

Mel grinned. “We were right, though.” She picked up your hand, bringing it to her lips, and kissing the back of it. “So… We’re not dying. What do you want to do now?”

And that sobered you up.

The relief of hearing that you were cancer-free should have felt like a finish line, a positive end to a terrible day.

Instead, it felt more like the moment after a storm had passed: the danger was gone, the fear had subsided, the crisis was over.

But now you were left standing amongst the wreckage of every emotion you’d been too busy to process while you’d been trying to survive the day.

By the time you all left Professor Heimerdinger’s clinic, the adrenaline that had been carrying you for hours began to ebb away, leaving behind a profound exhaustion that seemed to seep into every part of your body. As Ambessa’s driver navigated the evening traffic, you sat quietly in the back seat beside Mel, watching the city lights smear across the rain-streaked windows, your thoughts slowly catching up with everything that had happened.

The Maddie revelation, the cheating, the lies. The humiliating STI tests, the terror of believing your cancer had returned. The crushing fear that you might lose the life you’d been planning to build with Cait and Vi. The overwhelming relief to learn you were healthy.

It had all happened within a single day.

The realisation felt almost absurd.

Nobody could be expected to absorb all of that without consequences.

For several minutes, the car remained quiet. Ambessa was occupied with responding to emails on her phone, occasionally muttering something disapproving about one client or another, while Mel watched you with the sort of subtle concern that suggested she’d been doing so for quite some time.

Eventually, your best friend reached across the seat and nudged you gently with an elbow. “So,” she said softly, “What do you want to do now?”

You blinked and looked at her.

The question seemed surprisingly difficult to answer.

Until that moment, you’d been so focused on surviving the next hour, the next test, the next result, that you hadn’t considered what came afterwards.

What did you want?

The obvious answer should have been to go home.

Cait and Vi would undoubtedly be waiting for you. They would have been worrying all day. They would want to hold you, fuss over you, make you dinner, wrap you in blankets, and generally smother you with affection until they were satisfied you were okay.

The thought should have comforted you.

Instead, it made your chest tighten.

Not because you didn’t want to see them.

Quite the opposite.

You loved them, desperately.

The problem was that you suddenly felt overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of everything.

The penthouse wasn’t just Cait’s and Vi’s home anymore; it was where the three of you were planning to build a life together.

It was where you felt safest, it was where you wanted to be.

And somehow that made the idea of returning there feel impossible.

Because the moment you walked through those doors, everything would become real.

The cheating betrayal, the cancer scare, the fear, the relief…

The possibility of losing all of it.

You didn’t know how to carry all those emotions at once.

You weren’t sure you could try in that moment.

“I don’t want to go home,” you confessed quietly. Almost apologetically.

Mel didn’t look surprised. She simply nodded. “Okay.”

You frowned. “That’s it?”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. A lecture on not running away, like I always do?”

Mel laughed softly. “You’ve had the worst day imaginable, I’ll cut you a little slack.”

You considered that, then shook your head. “Not the worst; the cancer could’ve come back.”

She nodded. “True. Then let’s call it one of the worst days.”

That seemed fair.

You looked back out the window. “I think if I go home right now, I’ll fall apart.”

The admission felt embarrassingly vulnerable.

“They’ll want to talk about everything.” Your voice grew quieter. “And I know they’ll be worried. And I know I’ll end up crying.”

Mel’s expression softened. She reached out and squeezed your hand. “Come home with me.”

You looked back again. “What?”

“You need somewhere quiet, to rest. Vi’s family is still in town, and they’re all staying at the penthouse. They’d definitely offer to leave, to make you feel better. But my guest room is empty.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “You can hide there and recover from your emotional breakdown.”

“I wasn’t having a breakdown.”

“You absolutely were.”

You shook your head. “I was being perfectly reasonable given everything that’s happened today.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You thought your loving girlfriends who are completely obsessed with you were going to abandon you.”

You immediately looked away.

“Exactly,” Mel said.

The teasing wasn’t cruel. If anything, it felt comforting.

For the first time all day, something felt normal.

“What about your work?”

“Angel, I never bring clients to my home. And if I need to film something, I’ll let you know so you can leave for a few hours or put headphones on.”

You laughed softly. “Okay,” you said quietly. “I’d like that.”

Mel’s apartment felt entirely different from the penthouse. The atmosphere was always calmer, almost meditative. You’d always loved that about Mel’s home; it was always a soft place to be.

After showering and changing into a borrowed nightie – none of Mel’s pyjama sets fit you because of your different body types – you found yourself curled beneath the blankets in your friend’s guest bedroom, staring up at the ceiling while your damp hair spread across the pillow.

The room was dark except for the bedside lamp, the soft light spreading through the room. The sounds of the city drifted faintly through the open window, and you simply laid there in the quiet.

You’d kept your phone turned off for most of the day, but you knew what you had to do.

Sitting up in bed, relaxing back against the pillows, you picked up your device and turned it on. You waited anxiously whilst the system booted up, then watched your notifications pour in.

Message after message, missed call after missed call.

By the end, your phone had 30 texts from various people, and nine missed calls from Cait and Vi.

You went into the texts, reading through them slowly. All the ones from Cait and Vi were asking if you were okay, asking where you were, what was going on; they told you they loved you, so many times.

You even had texts from unknown numbers that turned out to be Powder and Vander, both asking if you were alright, and offering to talk if you wanted to.

Just after ten, you pressed a button on your phone, starting a video call.

The call was answered almost immediately.

“Y/N!” Cait cried, her beautiful but panicked face filling the screen.

“Hi, Cait,” you said softly, already having to force tears down.

Vi’s face pushed into frame. “Sweetheart, are you alright? Where are you?”

“I’m at Mel’s. I’m okay,” you assured.

Cait put the phone down, struggling for a few seconds to prop it up. You could see her hands shaking, her jaw trembling with frustration as she tried to stabilise her phone. Vi had to help in the end, taking over and propping the phone up.

They were both sat on the bed in their pyjamas – even though Vi was initially topless and quickly pulled on a vest.

“Are you alright, darling?” Cait asked gently. “Really?”

You gave a little nod.

The relief that washed across their faces was so immediate and so profound that it made your chest ache.

Neither woman even attempted to hide it. Vi looked as though she’d been pacing for hours; Cait looked marginally more composed, but only slightly.

Vi’s voice was warm with relief. “We’ve been so worried, baby.”

You smiled faintly. “I’m okay.”

“We didn’t know, Y/N,” Cait said firmly, shaking her head. “About you and Maddie. We didn’t know she had a partner.”

Vi nodded. “If we had, we would never have started seeing her.”

“I know,” you replied quietly. “I believe that.”

“Ambessa told us you were getting tested…” Cait started cautiously.

You bobbed your head. “I’m all good.”

They were visibly relieved.

“You should be okay too, but you should still get tested. Just to be safe.”

They both agreed quietly, their hands gripping each other’s tightly.

Vi leaned in. “Baby, your voice sounds rough.”

You cleared your throat gently. “The, um… The test did come back with an elevated result. The doctor was worried it could be…” You had to shake your head. “He was worried the cancer could have come back.”

They both looked terrified.

Cait’s hand shot up to her mouth. “Darling… Y/N, whatever it is-”

“I’m all clear.”

They paused.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Sorry! I… I should have said all that better,” you chastised yourself.

Vi shifted. “Y/N, just tell us everything.”

You recounted the whole afternoon to them. The STI tests, the unclear elevated test, the endoscopy exam… And the clear results.

They listened attentively the whole time, their attention never wavering from you. You explained everything dutifully while trying not to focus on the guilt beginning to gather in your stomach.

Because you knew what you needed to say.

And you knew it was going to hurt them.

Eventually, you took a breath. “I need to tell you something.”

Concern flashed across both their faces.

You looked down at the sheets over your lap. For several moments you struggled to find the words. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet. “I think we need a little time apart.”

The silence that followed wasn’t angry.

It wasn’t offended, or even surprised.

It was simply sad.

You could see the disappointment immediately.

Not disappointment in you, but in the whole situation.

The fact that you felt you needed to leave at all.

“Baby…” Vi’s voice was incredibly gentle.

You forced yourself to continue. “Everything just happened all at once.” Your throat tightened. “Maddie. The STI testing. The cancer scare.” Your eyes stung unexpectedly. “I feel like my brain hasn’t even caught up on everything yet.”

Neither woman interrupted or argued. They just listened.

“I love you both, so fucking much,” you promised. “But every time I think about coming home right now, I feel overwhelmed.”

Cait’s expression softened, but she hesitated to speak. “That’s understandable. You’ve spent the entire day moving from one emotional crisis to another; most people would struggle to process even one of those things.”

You swallowed hard.

Next to Cait, Vi rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t think hiding forever is a good plan.”

“Violet,” Cait whispered softly.

But her Wife shook her head. “I don’t. I don’t. You should... You should be here, baby, with us.”

“It won’t be forever,” you assured. “I don’t want it to be forever.”

Vi audibly cracked her knuckles as she squeezed her hands together. “How long?” she asked, her tone a little terse.

Cait sighed softly. “I must say: I also don’t think isolating yourself is necessarily the healthiest thing you could do right now, darling.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. “I know…”

“But…” Cait forced a weak smile. “You are a grown woman. And you know yourself better than we do.”

Vi nodded. “We don’t like it.”

“No…”

“But we’ll respect it.”

The simple acceptance nearly made you cry. Because you knew they didn’t want this. You knew they wanted you home. You knew they wanted to wrap you in blankets and keep you between them for the next week.

Yet neither of them was trying to guilt you into returning. Neither of them was making you choose between their comfort and your own needs.

They were simply trusting you. Even when they disagreed. Even when it hurt.

“We’ll really miss you, baby.”

The quiet confession came from Vi. Her voice was thick with unshed tears.

Cait nodded, rubbing her Wife’s back. “Shall we discuss the details of this period?”

That made you give a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we should discuss that.”

Cait and Vi would stop sending your weekly allowance – only after you assured them that you had more than enough currently in your account, and also promised to tell them if you needed or wanted anything, even just $10 for coffee and cake. You could have a video call once a week that could be as long or short as you all wanted it to be (if you all wanted a call at all), but you wouldn’t have any other communication. You’d told them you were planning on starting therapy, which they both fully supported.

You all agreed and were very clear that this was not a break-up; it was simply a pause in your relationship so you could all have a break and assess. Also, you might have been the one initiating the pause, but you all agreed that if Cait and/or Vi decided that they didn’t want to get back together with you, then they could make that decision.

By the time you all finally said goodnight, nobody was entirely happy about the arrangement, but everyone understood it and agreed to the rules. After the call ended, you set your phone aside and settled deeper beneath the blankets. For a long time, you laid awake staring into the darkness.

And although you still felt overwhelmed, exhausted, and emotionally wrung out, you also felt something else.

Safe.

Not because everything was fixed.

But because even after asking for space, the women who loved you had stayed exactly where they were.

Waiting patiently…

Trusting you to find your way back when you were ready.

Buy me a coffee! 💜