Chapter 2

We eat dinner, though the kids were messy; of course I scold them for playing with food, but not too aggressively. After finishing dinner, Katie took the kids to brush their teeth, and tucked them in bed. While she did that, I was sitting on the couch, watching a basketball game.

As the kids are tucked in, their room filled with the sound of soft lullabies, she walks out, her posture a little less tense than before. And there I sit, the basketball game and the quietness of the house replacing the chaos of dinner. "Hey." She says, her voice carrying the hint of an apology for the hectic dinner, or maybe, just for everything. "You know, I'm used to this...routine. But sometimes, it's nice to have someone to share it with." She walks over to the couch and drops next to you, the house settling into the stillness of the night.

"Well, I'm glad you're here. The kids too." I smile, at her. "I love 'em like they're my own."

She glances at me, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiles, a mix of warmth and gratitude in the gesture. "The feeling is mutual. If it wasn't for you..." Her voice trails off, the unsaid words hanging between you two. It's like the house itself is breathing a sigh of relief, the peace of the night enveloping the two of us. "They are a handful, but they're worth it, alright?" She leans back into the couch cushion, a sense of ease settling over the room.

"...Still don't want to tell me what's bothering you?" I ask her.

She's quiet for a moment, the silence like a weight that refuses to shift. The basketball game on the screen is a mere background noise. Slowly, she turns to me, and the vulnerability in her voice is almost tangible. "It's just...the usual things, I guess. You know...parenting, the bills, the world." She rests her hand on her lap, avoiding my gaze for a moment, as if the answer is too big for words. "But it's silly, right? That I can't tell you when it's just me and you here." She finally looks at me, the question in her eyes almost painfully honest.

"Why can't you tell me?" I raise an eyebrow.

She takes a deep breath, her voice a whisper, as if the words are too precious to be spoken too loudly. "It's just...I don't like being the one who brings the weight of it all to the table, you know? I mean, we have all that we could ask for, and you're here...and still, it feels like there's this little part of me, that just doesn't let go of the worry. " She looks away, her hand fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, the admission a mixture of strength and vulnerability.

"I told you a lot of times already, you're not a burden. You're not bringing a lot of weight on the table." I loot at her, sincerity in my eyes. "We've known each other since we were kids..." I sigh. "You ain't gotta worry." I shake my head.

She's quiet for a moment, her gaze lingering on the TV, but her mind is somewhere else, replaying the weight of the words I've said over and over again in her head. "Yeah..."she nods, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know." And there's this quiet acceptance of the truth, of your presence in her life, in the way she leans back into the couch cushion and seems to breathe just a little easier. "I guess sometimes, it's just hard to let go, you know?" She says, and there's an unspoken thank you in the way she shifts, making herself more comfortable on the couch.

"Then, please, tell me."

She's silent, contemplating the request, the tension in the air almost palpable, as if she's finding the courage to break the fragile balance of her guarded self. Her voice is soft, but it carries the weight of decision. "Fine. But you have to promise me something, okay?" It's like she's making a pact with herself, with the possibility of letting the words out, and it's scary, but also a little bit freeing.

"Sure. What do you want me to promise?" I look at her, shifting on the couch for a better sitting position.

She takes a deep breath, the words that follow are almost a whisper, but her voice is steady. "That you won't...run away." There's this vulnerability in her eyes, the kind that isn't afraid to look straight at me, and it's as if she's daring me to make that promise.

"Why would I- I mean," I cough, and nod my head, but I'm confused at her wanting me to promising her to not run away. "I promise I won't run away." I nod. "Now, can you tell me?"

There's a beat, and you can sense her mind racing, trying to find the right words, as she's about to let go of the burden she's been holding for so long. "Alright." She says, the sound of it a sigh, a compromise between holding in and letting go. "I guess...I've been worried. Not just about the bills or the kids' school...but about us. About the way things are, and the way they might not be anymore." The words are like a release, and she's holding her breath, waiting for my reaction, a little scared, a little hopeful.

"I, uh..."I run my finger through my hair." I'm sorry, but I don't think I get it...what do you mean, 'us might not be the way they are anymore'?"

Her voice is calmer now, the words coming out with a sense of clarity. It's like she's been holding them in, just waiting for the right moment to explain. "Okay." She takes a deep breath, her eyes focused on the TV, as if the screen is a safe place to anchor her thoughts. "What I mean is...I'm afraid things between us might change. And it doesn't have to be a bad thing, you know? But the thought of it just..." She stops, the words failing her, and it's like a silent plea for understanding, for reassurance.

"You mean..." I look at her, a bit confused. Do you...You...Perhaps, you have feelings for me?" I ask, not knowing if I understand right, and how to react to my conclusion.

She's quiet for a moment, as if even the idea of answering is a little scary, a little exhilarating. She stares at the screen, the basketball game a mere background noise, but her mind is somewhere else entirely, searching for the words to say. "Yes." It's soft, but it's there, the confession that comes with something as fragile as hope, the 'yes' that hangs between us two, like a promise waiting to be shaped.