The next few days passed in a gentler rhythm than we had known in weeks. The rain eased into occasional showers, and the house on Maple Lane started to feel less like a hiding place and more like a home we were trying to figure out together. Elias and I spent more time actually talking — not just about the immediate fear of Noah’s visit, but about what we wanted our life to look like beyond the secrecy.
One afternoon, while we were repainting the trim on the front porch, Elias set his brush down and looked at me.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag. “After Noah’s visit… whenever that conversation with Amina finally happens, I don’t want it to come from guilt. I want it to come from honesty. I love you. I want a future with you. And yes — I still want us to try for a
