The next few days after that kitchen counter celebration felt like the first real breath we’d taken since the breaking point. We weren’t pretending everything was perfect. We were just… trying. And for once, it didn’t feel like we were fighting against each other.
Damien still went to therapy. He didn’t talk about the sessions much yet, but he’d come home quieter sometimes, thoughtful. I didn’t push instead I just made sure there was coffee ready and let him pull me into his lap on the couch when he needed the closeness without words.
I went back to my normal routine too, classes in the morning, a few short shifts at the diner in the afternoon. Mike had stopped acting weird and started treating me like any other employee again, which was a relief because I didn't want to be treated like
