twenty six #3
"That's okay," he said softly. "You don't have to be ready tonight."
I looked back at the window. At the ghost of us side by side.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt the smallest, strangest bloom of hope.
Maybe that was enough.
The drive back into the city was the longest it had ever felt.
Brooks kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting palm up on the console, like he was offering something he didn't have the words for.
I didn't take it.
We didn't talk for miles.
Every time I thought of something to say-I'm scared or I don't know if I'm enough-the words dried up in my throat.
The silence settled over us like a blanket that was too heavy to shake off.
By the time the skyline came back into view, my head hurt.
He pulled up to my building without asking where I wanted to go.
The engine idled.
For a second, neither of us moved.
His thumb rubbed slow circles against the leather of the steering wheel. "I don't expect your feeling to change just because you saw the place."
"I know."
"I meant what I said," he continued, his voice low. "It's not about hiding you."
I looked down at my hands. "Then what is it?"
"It's about trying to build something real," he said simply.
The honesty in his tone almost broke me clean in half.
When I didn't answer, he reached across the console and curled his hand around mine-warm, steady, sure.
"You're not alone in this," he said quietly.
I didn't know how to tell him that was exactly what scared me the most.
I pulled my hand free and reached for the door handle.
"I'll call you tomorrow," I said, my voice too even.
"Okay."
I climbed out, the cold night air hitting me like a slap.
He waited until I was inside before pulling away.
I watched the taillights disappear around the corner before I let myself breathe.
Inside, the building was hushed and warm, the lobby lights dimmed for the night.
I took the stairs to the third floor, one slow step at a time, my mind buzzing so loud it felt like static.
By the time I let myself into my apartment, I felt wrung out.
I dropped my bag by the door, kicked off my boots, and stood there in the dark for a long moment, just listening to the quiet.
Then I moved to the couch and sat down, tugging the throw blanket around my shoulders.
I didn't cry.
I didn't even think I could anymore.
Instead, I sat there and let myself think about every way this could go wrong.
I didn't know how long I sat there before I reached for
my phone and opened Tati's text thread.
I hesitated, then typed back:
Three dots blinked on the screen.
I looked around the dark apartment. The half-finished sketches. The empty tea mug on the counter.
I didn't want to be alone.
Twenty minutes later, Tati let herself in. She was still wearing her coat, her cheeks pink from the cold.
She didn't say anything at first. Just toed off her sneakers and came to sit beside me on the couch.
For a minute, we just sat there in the quiet.
Then she reached over and took my hand.
"What happened?"
I let out a slow breath. "I don't even know."
She waited, patient.
"I asked him to take me to see it," I said eventually.
"The house?"
"Yeah."
Tati's thumb brushed over the back of my hand. "And?"
"It was perfect," I whispered. "That's the problem."
Her brows drew together. "Why is that a problem?"
"Because...because it feels like stepping into someone else's life," I said, voice thin.
Tati was quiet for a long moment.
I looked down at our hands. "He says it's not about hiding me. But it feels like it is."
"Did you tell him that?"
"Not exactly."
"Why not?"
I swallowed. "Because...he looked so hopeful. Like he really thought this was the answer."
"And you didn't want to be the one to tell him it's not," she finished gently.
I nodded, blinking hard.
Tati squeezed my fingers.
"Amira...you don't have to say yes," she said softly. "Just because it looks perfect doesn't mean it's right."
"I know."
"But you also don't have to say no just because you're scared."
I didn't answer.
She sighed and leaned her head against my shoulder.
"You don't have to decide yet. He's already said that," she reminded me.
But the truth was, I didn't know if more time would help.
Later, after Tati left, I moved through the apartment on autopilot.
I washed my face. Changed into an oversized T-shirt. Pulled my hair up into a loose bun.
Then I crawled into bed and lay there in the dark, the hush of the room pressing in on all sides.
I scrolled through instagram for a while and saw Sam post a photo of her and Tati.
My mind had been so warped with everything going on I forgot that one of my best friends was moving across the country in a matter of hours.
I was half-asleep when my phone buzzed again.
I stared at the screen, my chest tightening.
Three dots.
Nothing.
I set the phone on the pillow beside me, screen still glowing.
And for the first time in weeks, I let myself hope that maybe, somehow, we'd figure it out.
Even if I didn't know how.