Chapter 6
The first morning in their new apartment, Clara woke before Thomas.
For a few seconds, she lay still, eyes closed, not quite understanding why the light filtering through the curtains seemed different.
Then she heard steady breathing beside her and felt the warmth of a body next to hers.
She opened her eyes and smiled. The bedroom was still cluttered with boxes, some clothes lay draped over a chair, and two suitcases sat against the wall, but none of that mattered.
For the first time, she wasn’t waking up at her place waiting for Thomas to arrive. She was waking up at theirs.
She sat up slowly, careful not to wake him, and looked around.
They’d spent the last few days hauling their belongings, assembling furniture, and trying to make this still-impersonal apartment feel like home.
There was still so much to do. Books were piled in open boxes, the kitchen wasn’t fully organized, and several frames still needed to be hung.
Yet Clara already had that strange feeling that the place was theirs.
It wasn’t the décor that gave her this impression, but the traces of their two lives now woven together.
One of Thomas’s jackets was draped over a chair near the window, his work bag sat in the entryway, and on the nightstand, the novel Clara had started a few weeks earlier rested beside his watch.
She got up and pulled on a sweater before heading to the kitchen.
She put water on to boil and opened the cabinets, still a bit disoriented.
For a few seconds, she searched for the mugs before remembering they’d put them away the night before.
She took out two, made coffee, and settled by the window.
The city was just beginning to stir. A few cars passed on the street and the first shops were opening.
Clara watched this ordinary scene with a smile.
She’d dreamed so much of changing her life that she’d sometimes imagined extraordinary transformations.
Now she was discovering that happiness could look much simpler.
Thomas appeared a few minutes later, his hair still disheveled.
“You’re already up?”
“Have been for a while.”
“And you didn’t make any noise?”
“I tried not to.”
He walked over to the table and picked up his mug.
“It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“Waking up here.”
Clara smiled.
“In our apartment?”
“Yeah. I think it’ll take me a while to get used to it.”
“Me too.”
He sat down across from her.
“Do you regret it?”
The question came calmly, with no apparent worry, but Clara immediately understood what he wanted to know. She set down her mug and looked at him.
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“I’m scared, but that’s not the same as regretting.”
Thomas nodded.
“True.”
“And you?”
“I’m terrified.”
Clara burst out laughing.
“Thanks for reassuring me.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
He took her hand across the table.
“I’ve never lived with anyone.”
“Me neither.”
“So we’ll probably make mistakes.”
“Lots of them.”
“We’ll argue.”
“Definitely.”
“You’ll leave your clothes lying around.”
Clara raised her eyebrows.
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“You’re the one who’s already left three shirts in the living room.”
“They’re temporarily there.”
“For three days.”
“So they’re still temporarily there.”
Clara started laughing. This lightness felt good. She’d been so afraid of this step that she’d forgotten living together also meant sharing absurd jokes, bickering over little things, and discovering each other’s quirks.
Their first week was devoted to settling in.
Clara went back to work after a few days off, and Thomas fell back into his work routine.
They quickly discovered they didn’t have the same schedules.
Some mornings, Thomas left before her. Other times, Clara got up earlier and made breakfast while he was still asleep.
They had to learn to organize their evenings and carve out time for each other despite the exhaustion. The adjustment wasn’t always easy.
One evening, Clara came home later than expected. She’d had a meeting that ran long and several files to finish before the next day. When she opened the door, Thomas was already there.
“You could have let me know.”
She set down her bag.
“I sent you a message.”
“Two hours ago.”
“I know. I couldn’t check my phone.”
Thomas sighed.
“I’m not blaming you for working.”
“It feels like you are.”
He fell silent. Clara took off her jacket and draped it over a chair.
“I’m tired, Thomas.”
“So am I.”
“Then let’s not turn this into an argument.”
He ran a hand over his face.
“You’re right.”
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Clara headed to the kitchen, took out two plates, and started throwing something together. Thomas eventually joined her.
“I’m sorry.”
She kept tidying up.
“Me too.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because I could have called.”
He leaned against the counter.
“I think I need to learn not to be afraid when you’re not here.”
Clara turned around.
“Afraid of what?”
“That you’ll realize you’d be better off without me.”
She went quiet. In that moment, she understood that behind his reactions was a worry he’d never really voiced.
“Thomas, look at me.”
He looked up.
“I’m not with you because I have nothing else.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t really believe that.”
She moved closer.
“I chose this life. I chose my job. And I chose you. Those are three separate things.”
He smiled slightly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll try to remember that.”
They ended up having dinner together in peace.
The argument hadn’t magically disappeared, but it had helped them both understand something about each other.
Clara was learning that being in a relationship didn’t mean avoiding conflict.
It was about getting through disagreements without questioning everything.
The weeks that followed brought more surprises.
Thomas turned out to be hopeless at folding bath towels, while Clara had a habit of letting coffee cups pile up on her desk.
They discovered they had completely different taste in music and that picking a movie on Friday night could take nearly an hour.
They also learned that Thomas liked to cook when he was relaxed, while Clara preferred cooking when she was stressed.
Little by little, they found their rhythm.
One Sunday morning, while they were tidying the bedroom, Clara found a box she’d almost forgotten about. She sat on the floor and opened it. Inside were a few mementos from her past. She looked at them without any particular nostalgia, but with a quiet tenderness for the woman she used to be.
Thomas came over.
“What’s that?”
“Memories.”
He sat down beside her.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Yes.”
Clara told him things she’d never really shared before.
She talked about her first dates, her fear, the feeling of not knowing how to look at men when they spoke to her.
Most importantly, she explained that she’d discovered something crucial: for a long time, she’d confused being desired with having worth.
Thomas listened without interrupting.
“And now?”
“Now I know they’re two different things.”
“How did you figure that out?”
She smiled.
“By meeting someone who looked at me even when I wasn’t trying to be attractive.”
Thomas looked down.
“You know you can make me blush?”
“It’s rare.”
“Very rare.”
She closed the box.
“I don’t regret anything.”
“Not even the hard times?”
“No. Not even those.”
“Why?”
Clara thought for a moment.
“Because without them, I probably wouldn’t be here.”
Thomas put his arm around her shoulders.
“With me?”
“With you.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Thomas asked:
“Have you told your family about me?”
The question surprised Clara.
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
“I told them I was seeing someone.”
“And?”
“They asked questions.”
“A lot?”
“Tons.”
Thomas smiled.
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“Not yet.”
Clara knew this conversation was bound to happen. Her parents had always had a clear idea of the life she should lead. They’d never been particularly controlling, but their opinion had always mattered. She also knew they’d have trouble understanding some of the decisions she’d made.
“I’m scared of how they’ll react.”
Thomas said nothing.
“Do you want me to be there when you talk to them?”
Clara looked at him.
“You’d do that?”
“Of course.”
“Even if it’s hard?”
“Especially if it’s hard.”
She rested her head against him.
“Thank you.”
A few days later, Clara called her mother. The conversation was shorter than she’d imagined.
“Mom, I wanted to tell you something.”
“You’re worrying me.”
“I’m living with someone.”
Silence.
“You’re living with someone?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“A few days, officially.”
“And you hadn’t told us?”
“I wanted to be sure first.”
Her mother sighed.
“Are you happy?”
Clara smiled.
“Yes.”
That answer seemed to be enough for now. But she knew more questions would come later.
That evening, she told Thomas about the conversation.
“She didn’t ask who I was first?”
“No.”
“That’s something, at least.”
“She wants to meet you.”
Thomas smiled.
“I’d like that.”
Clara looked at him with concern.
“Aren’t you scared?”
“Yes.”
“Could you stop saying that?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re supposed to be the brave one.”
“Sorry. I’m a very brave man who’s scared of meeting your mother.”
She burst out laughing.
The days passed. Their relationship grew stronger, but a new question was starting to surface in Clara’s mind.
She’d changed careers and found some balance, but she still didn’t know where her past fit in her new life.
She didn’t want to hide it completely, but she didn’t want to tell everyone either.
She also refused to let her past become the only thing that defined her.
At work, she was starting to feel more comfortable. Her colleagues were beginning to appreciate her ideas, and her supervisor was giving her more responsibilities. One afternoon, he asked her to take part in an important project.
“I’d like you to take charge of this part.”
Clara was taken aback.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You have good ideas, and you’ve adapted quickly.”
“Thank you.”
When she got home that evening, she told Thomas everything.
“See?” he said. “You’re made for this.”
“Maybe.”
“No. Not maybe.”
She smiled.
“You’re unbearable when you’re right.”
“I know.”
She moved closer to him.
“I have an idea.”
“Which is?”
“What if we went out tonight?”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere we’ve never been.”
They left without any real plan. They walked through the streets, found a small bookstore still open, then a restaurant they’d never noticed before. The evening was simple, spontaneous, and happy.
On their way home, Clara stopped in front of their building.
“Do you remember our first evening?”
“Yes.”
“I thought my life was going to change because of a fantasy.”
Thomas looked at her.
“And it did change.”
“Completely.”
“Do you regret it?”
She smiled.
“No. But it wasn’t the fantasy that changed my life.”
“What was it then?”
She took his hand.
“Meeting you.”
They went upstairs to their place. Inside the apartment, Clara looked around. The boxes had disappeared. The walls were decorated, their things were mingled together, and the kitchen was finally starting to look like a real kitchen. There was something deeply reassuring about this normalcy.
Thomas came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.
“Are you happy?”
Clara placed her hands on his.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She turned around and looked at him.
“And you?”
“I’ve never been happier.”
They kissed softly. This time, there was no hotel, no appointment, no role to play.
There was no implicit contract, no planned separation the next morning, no question about what they really were.
There was only their apartment, their life together, and this new sense of having finally built a place where they could both be themselves.
Later, Clara lay down next to Thomas and stayed awake for a few minutes.
She thought about the young woman she’d been just a few months earlier.
She wished she could tell her not to be ashamed of her contradictions, not to constantly seek other people’s approval, and not to be afraid of decisions that seemed difficult to explain.
Most of all, she wished she could tell her that she would eventually understand something essential: freedom wasn’t about doing everything others judged forbidden. It was about being able to choose your own life, and then changing your mind when that life no longer fit.
Clara closed her eyes. Next to her, Thomas was sleeping peacefully.
She smiled in the darkness. Tomorrow would probably be filled with new questions, new responsibilities, and maybe new disagreements.
Their story hadn’t become perfect just because they were living together.
It had only just begun a new chapter. And for the first time, Clara didn’t want to know where it would end.
She just wanted to keep moving forward with him.