I emerge from the bathroom, towel slung around my hips, steam billowing behind me and Rashid’s voice following me. He’s humming some tune, and I’m pretty sure it’s another Taylor Swift song. I shake my head at my closeted Swiftie. But when he sounds happy, who am I to disagree with his taste in music?

We just came back from visiting my sister and the kids in Covington, where she’s still chained to the bed – not literally – in order to stop my youngest nibling from being hatched too soon. I haven’t seen Josie in weeks, which is entirely my fault. There’s a continuous Turner shuttle service between Leonidas and Covington since Josie moved in with her future in-laws, and I have been offered a ride on more than one occasion. I refused. The last weeks have been… difficult. Between Rashid disappearing on me and the memory of Remy’s death returning, I’ve been a mess. I met up with Eli Barnes, Louis’ therapist, a couple of times, but when I received Sam Barclay’s nightly phone call, it all just became too much. I completely shut myself off from the world and only functioned as best as I could to fulfil my job. I became a robot that reacted to prompts from the outside world but stayed dead inside.

I feel like an ass for not being around to help Mal and Soso. When school started back again, Josie decided that her condition shouldn’t disrupt Soso’s routine more than it already did. Taking her out of her circle of friends and relocating her to a school in Covington for a couple of weeks seemed too much, so Soso is staying in Leonidas with Mal during the week, and the Turners are picking her up for the weekend. Or Mal takes her when he goes to see his kids and fiancée. It’s a tough situation, and I could have helped. I should have. Taken Soso after school when Mal was busy with his store. Helped around the house. But I’ve been a selfish prick and wallowed in self-pity instead.

Then Rashid came back to me, and at least that part of my life is… better. Not fixed, but better. We’re still all too aware of the wounds we caused each other and try our best not to upset the precarious balance between us. Confessing about Freddie actually helped, although I panicked that it would end up being the last straw. But at least it’s out and I understand Rashid a little better now. His lack of jealousy is not because he doesn’t care about me; it’s because he trusts me completely. I think it actually makes him proud to see other men flirt with me as long as he’s the one I want to take home at night. And of course I want to. D’uh.

I still want to claw out the eyes of any guy that looks at my Rashid funny. I had no idea I had such a possessive streak in me, but it is there. Rashid is the complete package and then some, and why he would give me the time of day is still a complete mystery to me. But that’s on me, not him.

Where I’m possessive, he is fiercely protective. I don’t know if it’s only me that brings this out in him – because he has seen me at my lowest? – or if it’s a general trait. Maybe if he’d let me into his world more, I’d know. During our fight I accused him of keeping me a secret, and he admitted that with some of the things I said I’d been right. But we haven’t gone into detail about what that means since then. There are still so many things that we need to work on, but we’re both afraid that too much at once might sever the thin thread that we’ve only started to weave between us again.

For now we’re happy to be back in each other’s lives. Until he needs to go back to London again, which will be in a couple of days. He’s currently here on an extended sick leave after he was severely wounded on a mission that he wasn’t even supposed to be on. I have no idea how he negotiated these extra days, but somehow he managed. To see me. When he came here, he didn’t know about Sam’s phone call. He only hoped his ex had truthfully delivered the message to me, the way Rashid had asked him to. Maybe he suspected something went wrong along the way, and his suspicion would have been right. But that’s cleared up now. The fight only brought some things to light that we so far avoided addressing.

Why is he keeping me so firmly out of his life? And can we really stay in this relationship while living on opposite sides of an ocean?

Once Rashid is back on his way to London, the cycle starts up again for me, and I’m dreading it. Or I would be if I allowed myself to think about it.

But today was a good day, and I’m determined to enjoy every good day as much as I can, soaking up the positive energy to hopefully make it last until the next one.

Mal picked us up early this morning to drive us across the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway towards Convington. His parents, Otis and Mabel, live in a big, beautiful house with a proper garden full of old trees and flower beds. Mal grew up there with his two older sisters, who moved away a while ago, got married and had kids of their own. That means there are plenty of guest rooms available which came in handy when doctors put Josie on bedrest because of her shortened cervix and to avoid the risk of early labour. Imagining my powerhouse of a sister as a lady of leisure for two months now is almost impossible and I can’t wait to see her again. I also miss my princess Soso. And the twins.

When Mal parks in front of my building, he scratches his neck apologetically. Apparently Josie asked him to restock all of her favourite snacks – perks of being the future wife of an independent retailer – and they’re all piled up on the passenger’s seat. Do I mind riding with Rashid in the back? Not one bit. Holding my man’s hand and resting my head on his shoulder during the one-hour drive is a hardship I’m willing to endure.

Since Rashid and Mal haven’t seen each other for a while, they easily fall into conversation. Mal updates Rashid on Josie and the kids, their postponed wedding plans as well as ideas to expand his grocery store. Another location opened up not too far from the current site of Big Mal’s Market, and Mal is thinking about moving his store into the larger place. Rashid mentions a small shop called ‘Deli Chai’ that he discovered in Leonidas years ago. He says their sandwiches were to die for, New York style but with an Indian twist. Mal confirms they’re still there, and my future brother-in-law and my boyfriend make plans to get together for a ‘sandwich date’. I throw a curious glance at Rashid because he never mentioned getting sandwiches from a shop in Leonidas before.

He leans into me with a grin and kisses my cheek to whisper into my ear, “Before I met you.”

I glare at him: “Before… or when?” I keep my voice down so Mal won’t hear me. Rashid smirks at me and winks. Stupid secretive spies keeping secrets.

The drive across Lake Pontchartrain Causeway always spooks me out a little.

“Twenty-four miles of bridge over this gigantic body of water, which is in fact not a lake but an estuary,” Mal explains to us proudly. It’s the longest continuous bridge over water in the world. Pretty cool but also a little scary. Especially when you’re right in the middle and all you can see around you is water. If the bridge crashed underneath our car, I could, of course, try and swim back to shore, but it would be one hell of a long swim.

Let’s hope it doesn’t crash.

It survived Hurricane Katrina when my Mama was pregnant with Josie; it’ll probably survive Mal, Rashid and me in a car packed full of snacks for Josie, who is pregnant with my Mama’s fourth grandchild. It’s strange to think of my Mama as a grandma. She was only thirty-four when she died. Younger than Rashid is today. I involuntarily squeeze Rashid’s hand a little tighter, and he turns his head to kiss my forehead.

“You okay?”

I nod in reply but keep my eyes on the water rippling softly in the light breeze surrounding us. Rashid wraps an arm around my shoulder and tugs me a little closer.

When we arrive at the Turner residence, Mabel and Otis already wait for us outside at the door, and a tumble of toddlers-and-dog spills towards us. The twins have gotten so big since I last saw them and run towards their dad while Beau, the Turners’ King Charles Spaniel, dashes between them, yapping excitedly. While Mal hugs his sons, I take Rashid’s hand and walk over to Mal’s parents to greet and introduce them.

“Mabel, Otis, this is my boyfriend, Rashid Chaudhury.”

I’m a little nervous. Introducing people to my boyfriend is still a little uncharted territory, and while I know Mal is cool with having a gay brother-in-law – and I remember the moment he awkwardly told me that – I don’t actually know what to expect from his parents. That I have a boyfriend isn’t news to them, but actually standing in front of the evidence?

As it turns out, I worried for nothing. The moment my words are out, huge identical smiles spread across the Turners’ faces. Mabel takes a step towards Rashid and gives him a hug:

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to finally meet you. Soso won’t shut up about you.”

“Welcome to the family, son.” Otis adds, giving Rashid a manly pat on the shoulder.

And just like that, my boyfriend is officially adopted into the growing Turner-Dupree family. Rashid hugs them both back, but I don’t miss the way he stills when Otis calls him ‘son’. It’s only for a heartbeat, but the word seems to catch him off guard. I get it and rub his arm in support, relieved this part went so smoothly. After embracing Mabel and Otis myself, I’m itching to see my sister and Soso. I look around and spot my niece lurking beside the door. I expected her to be the first to run across the lawn and welcome us, but it’s like she’s trying to blend in with the background.

When I walk over to her, she slings her small arms around my neck, and I lift her in my arms.

“You came,” she whispers into my shoulder, and the surprised tone in her voice makes my heart bleed.

“Of course, I came, princess.”

She presses her little face into my shoulder.

“And look who came with me?” I turn around so she’s hopefully facing into the direction of my boyfriend, and a smile spreads across her face.

“Rashi!” There’s so much joy and excitement in her voice, I should be jealous. I really should. But since I kind of feel the same way about him, I can’t really blame her. Rashid comes up behind me, sandwiching me between my boyfriend and my niece.

“Amar shona,” he whispers to Soso, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and I am amazed by my man who so easily switches between languages. I know ‘amar shona’ means ‘my precious’ or ‘my darling’ in Bengali, his dad’s native language, which is different from Urdu, the language his nanu spoke. I’ve also learned that Rashid is slightly more fluent in Urdu because his nanu taught him. It’s become his love language, the one that comes out when he’s emotional and tender, like when he calls me ‘meri khushi’ – ‘my joy’ – or ‘jaanu’ – ‘my love’. I wish I knew more about Rashid’s family so I could find out why my niece was granted a Bengali nickname, but I admire Rashid’s multilingual skills. He speaks British and American English – and yes, those are absolutely two different languages if you ask me – Urdu, Bengali, French (as I discovered in Paris), and even some Spanish. He had a whole conversation with Rafa during our double date, while Elodie and I just sat there completely open-mouthed, hoping our spouses weren’t casually trading embarrassing details about us. They probably were.

Right now, Rashid also kisses the side of my face while a huge smile spreads across my princess’ face. I’m happy to see it because this subdued version of her that greeted me earlier is not one I’m familiar with. It made the guilt of abandoning her over the past few weeks flare up again. Maybe it’s nothing; maybe she’s just overwhelmed by the situation right now.

The twins and Beau the dog make a racket like you wouldn’t believe. They were so small and fragile when they were born, but at fifteen months old, their energy more than makes up for the fact they arrived slightly premature. They’ve really become a menace and Soso is dealing with a new school year, being away from her mom and living with her stepdad instead. That’s a lot for a seven year old.

Mabel ushers us all inside with promises of refreshments, and I let Rashid go with Soso while I search for my sister. I find her in the backgarden in the shade of a large tree, lying on a chaise lounge, Mal kneeling by her side, one of his big hands resting on her growing belly. One of Josie’s hands cradles Mal’s cheek, and I’m about to turn around to give them some privacy, but Josie spots me and waves me over. They kiss, and Josie murmurs something to her fiancé, too quiet for me to understand. Then Mal gets up and walks towards the house, leaving me with my sister, who looks quite sternly at me.

“Sit,” Josie demands without preamble after I shuffle a little awkwardly in front of her.

I do as I’m told and sit on the edge of her chair. The silence stretches between us. I gingerly reach out to place my palm on her stomach where Mal’s hand had just been, and after a moment I feel a gentle nudge from inside my sister’s body. I smile despite everything. This was my baby nephew saying ‘hi’ to me. I know it’s a bit of a cliche to call this the miracle of life, but it kind of is. There’s a tiny human growing inside my sister, and he just high-fived me. Or maybe kicked me as a warning to stay away from him and his mama. Who knows?

“How’s the little one?” I still marvel at her bump and remember the first time I saw my sister pregnant. She was a little further along with Soso at the time. At twenty-one, Josie was barely an adult – old enough to drink, sure – pregnant and with no one left to help her. Just me. Her good-for-nothing baby brother, not even seventeen, who’d just survived his first winter out on the streets. We both had no idea what to do but clung to each other like we were drowning in a storm, each of us the other’s only buoy.

Josie huffs. “Funny. The moment you are pregnant, everyone always asks about the little troublemaker. No one cares about the suffering mother anymore.”

I look around the garden at the small table by Josie’s side with a cool pitcher of lemonade and a bowl with cut fruit. The soft padding on the chair, the pillow stuffed behind her neck and the blanket covering her legs.

“Suffering, huh?” I grin at my sister, and she flips my bicep playfully.

“Watch it, brother!” She points a finger at me accusingly. Then she places her hand on top of mine that’s still resting on her belly. “He’s fine.” Her voice is softer now. “Not quite cooked yet, but we’re getting there, aren’t we, little man?”

We stay like that for a while, our hands entwined on top of her bump. There are no more kicks from within, like the baby calmed down, knowing his mama and his uncle are here watching over him.

High-pitched squeals and giggles come from behind us as Theo and Ezra chase after Beau, the dog’s ears flapping in the breeze. Josie rolls her eyes.

“Jay-zuhs, these two. That poor dog.”

I chuckle as the twins stumble over each other’s legs and both go tumbling into the grass, sounding more annoyed with themselves than hurt, while Beau runs circles around them, yapping – always keeping a semi-safe distance but never straying too far.

“This one’s a quiet one, I can tell already,” Josie says, rubbing her hand over her stomach. “Reminds me of his uncle.”

“Giving you grief before he’s even born?” I look down, sheepishly, and fumble with a loose thread of Josie’s blanket. She sighs.

“I was worried about you. You just disappeared.”

“I didn’t go anywhere…” I don’t dare to look up into her eyes. I know they’re full of concern, and I always hated when I added more pain to Josie’s already full plate.

“That’s not what I mean, and you full well know that.” Josie’s voice is quiet, but I don’t miss the edge in it.

“I’m sorry…” I whisper. I know she’s waiting for an explanation, but I also know she won’t push it. And how could I explain to her what happened? I can’t explain it to myself. ‘You hit rock bottom’ is Eli’s matter-of-fact summary that he’ll give me later on. That day in Covington, though, I still think I can get back on my feet on my own. It’s a wobbly process. It doesn’t feel too different from Ezra’s efforts, who is on all fours, his diapered butt wiggling in the air, when Theo, right next to him, loses his balance and knocks his brother over. They end up in a heap of giggles and loud squeals when Beau pelts into them.

Well, there’s the difference. The struggle is similar, but I’m having a lot less fun with it.

A warm voice, laughing, joins the noises of the toddler and dog mayhem. I’d recognise that voice among a million others, and my head turns automatically, like a compass needle snapping north. Rashid was handed his own glass of fresh lemonade and seems to be completely at ease chatting with Mabel Turner, while Mal and his dad set up the barbecue in the corner. Rashid must feel my eyes on him, or maybe he just caught the movement, and our gazes meet across the garden. He smiles at me, and the tenderness in his eyes does something to me. Something deep inside of me. It feels like a cloud of butterflies all taking flight at once, their wings beating wildly inside my chest. Rashid’s grin widens. Does he see in my eyes what I feel? Does he feel it, too?

“So, he’s back?” Josie’s voice drags me out of my shameless, love-sick ogling. I nod in confirmation.

“For how long?” she enquires.

“Next Wednesday.”

Josie hums. “And then what?”

I watch as Theo tries to get off the ground, but his efforts are about as effective as a bug on its back. I don’t have an answer – because isn’t that the million-dollar question?

*****

I poke my tongue out at the mirror that covers half of my wardrobe before I open the door to find some clean clothes. Mari talked me into meeting her at ‘The Nook’, the bar where her maybe-boyfriend / friend-with-benefits Silas works. I’d rather stay in; I’m actually a bit peopled out after our day at the Turners’, as lovely as it was. After we all had our fill of the best barbecue in the state of Louisiana (including veggie options for me), Rashid and Mal joined the chaos on the lawn, armed with water pistols to fight off the evil monster trio (Beau and the twins). I dragged over another chaise longue next to Josie’s, and we watched in puzzlement. Who were these people, and what had they done to our quiet, restrained spouses?

Soso helped her grandparents to clean up and then found me for some snuggles. I was a bit surprised she wasn’t taking up her own water gun, but I wasn’t upset about the cuddles. I miss the times where she’d join me in bed for her afternoon naps. When I was recovering from pneumonia or getting banged up on the streets. Okay, I don’t miss that part. But Soso’s soft, warm body pressed into mine and her unconditional love for her messed-up uncle – that’s what kept me alive during those years.

I absentmindedly rub a towel over my head to dry my hair, which leaves it sticking up in wild angles from my head. I probably should get a haircut. I definitely need to do laundry soon, or I’ll be running out of clean underwear. I find a pair of white boxer briefs that I haven’t worn in ages, but they still semi-fit, with no holes or suspicious skid marks, so they’ll do.

I’m just pulling them up when a hand glides into the waistband, giving my butt cheek a gentle squeeze.

“Oy!” I protest and mock-glower over my shoulder at my boyfriend. “Hands off the merchandise or we’re going to be late. And I’ll let you explain to Mari why!”

Rashid laughs. “I actually don’t think an explanation would be necessary.” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “I think Mari is on to us.”

He kisses my temple and pulls his hand out of my boxers, only to wrap both arms around me, his face buried in my neck, sighing deeply. I lean my head back against him and cover his arms with mine. His skin is cool to my touch, and his hair is still dripping wet, but I don’t mind. Having Rashid here with me is heaven, and I’m enjoying every second of it.

He nibbles small kisses along my neck.

“How did I get to be so lucky?” he murmurs against my skin. “How did I get to be with you?”

I huff and roll my eyes. “Now that’s debatable.”

“What do you mean?” I can hear the frown in his voice.

“Does being with me equal being lucky?” I challenge him.

He remains silent for a while, then sighs and nuzzles his face deeper into my neck. I know he’s annoyed with me and stare at our bare feet on the hardwood floor of my apartment and the droplets of water sprinkled around us.

“What do you even see in me?” I mutter, not looking up.

Rashid doesn’t reply, and I start to wonder if he’s just asking himself the same question. Then I can feel him exhale against my skin. One of his arms leaves our embrace, and he swings the wardrobe door closed. I’m faced with the mirror image of the two of us. Not that I mind looking at Rashid. Especially when he forgets that normal people use towels to cover their southern hemisphere after a shower. Am I complaining about his exhibitionist streak? Nope. Not one bit.

Unfortunately, there’s awkward ol’ me standing in front of him, hiding most of his gloriousness from my view. I try to avert my eyes, but Rashid is having none of it. He shifts his arms, holding me in place firmly with one of them while his free hand tugs at my chin to make me look up. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

“What do you see in yourself?” He asks me, his voice calm and a lot more serious than I expected. I try to wriggle free, but he won’t let go of me, and after some futile attempts, I give up. I know I could ask him to let go – he would never use force against me – but instead I just pull a face.

“Look at you: what do you like about yourself?” He insists.

I huff and give myself a quick once-over. My wild mop of black curls? They seriously need a trim. My face? Eh… My body? Double, eh…

Rashid must have seen my doubtful expression as he nudges me with his hip from behind.

“Come on… look again. There must be something!”

For a split second I wonder if I can distract him by expertly shimmying my butt against his fun zone, but before I can even finish the thought, Rashid growls into my ear: “Don’t even think about it.” Jay-zuhs, I really need to work on my poker face.

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath before I dutifully hold still and check myself out in the mirror.

“My hair is kind of funny… is that good?”

Rashid grins. “I love your hair.”

I look at him expectantly, but he chuckles. “There must be more… come on.”

I squint at my image.

“Maybe my eyes?”

“Mhmm… what about them?”

“I like the shape… I think… and the colour.”

“They’re even darker than mine.” Rashid leans his cheek against mine. “They remind me of obsidian. So dark, almost black, but alive with hidden fire. ” I had no idea there was a poet inside of this man. After a while he nudges me again. “That all?”

I groan. “It’s not really fair. I asked you a question, and you’re just avoiding giving me an answer.”

He chuckles: “Alright, alright. My turn then? What do I see in you?” He rests his chin on my shoulder and scrutinises our combined reflection in the mirror. “If I tell you, you must promise me: no deflecting, no self-deprecating comments, no huffing, and no eye-rolling, okay? Whatever I say, you’ll just have to accept it?”

I barely suppress an eyeroll because this does not bode well. He sees it and clears his throat pointedly with a raised brow.

“Okay, I’ll try…” I promise, giving in for now.

“I already said I love your hair. Especially when it’s a bit longer like now because I can run my fingers through it and comb it out of your face.” He does just that as he’s speaking. “Your eyes are beautiful; they’re so deep and dark and full of kindness. Stop squirming and take the damn compliment.” He laughs and pecks a kiss on my cheek. “And you know I love your body. Every inch of it.”

I sigh, and he holds up a warning finger.

“Fine.” I growl and he grins. Admittedly, I am aware he enjoys my body. I can see – and feel – the evidence. Still… there’s still that part of me that wonders why – how – he can ignore my past, the huge mess that I am, and just… love me?

“But that’s not all there is. I don’t only desire your body… I do, but there’s also… you. The you inside. The one that makes me laugh, the one who listens to me, the one who trusts me and confides in me.”

I fidget in his arms, but he keeps me tight in his embrace.

“What I see in you is how smart you are – yes, I know you dropped out of high school before graduating, but that’s just education. You’re still smart. And strong. And brave, and I love all of it. All of you.”

“Stop it…” I whimper.

“No, but you are.” He takes a deep breathe. “Remember the first time we talked? At the Sazerac?”

I nod, wondering where he’s going with this.

“It felt so surreal to just sit next to you after watching you for so long. It had been almost three years since I saw you first…”

“Almost two years since I saw you first…” I interrupt him. I still can’t believe how close he’d been to me the day after the attack, and I had no idea.

He grins at me sheepishly before continuing. “I sat there and had no idea what to say. I wasn’t even sure if you’d recognise me. And if you did, what you would do? Before I got to the Sazerac, I had tried to come up with different scenarios and what I’d say and how you’d react, but suddenly my mind was completely blank…”

I very slowly raise an eyebrow at him. “I find that very hard to believe…”

Rashid laughs. “Okay, maybe not completely blank, but I was nervous.” He clears his throat, seeing my expression, still calling bullshit on his story. “Anyhow… you just turned around to me and said…”

“Hello, handsome stranger,” I finish the sentence for him. “Yes, that was probably the most stupid thing I’ve ever done. Not that I regret it!” I’m quick to add, seeing Rashid frown. “But for all I knew, you could have been a crazy axe murderer out to drag me into his secret lair and have your wicked way with me before… well… whatever crazy axe murderers do.”

“Mhmm, but you still did it.” He cocks his head. “Why?”

I splutter. “I don’t know? I had nothing to lose; life is short, and you were hot?”

“I think you did it because you knew I wasn’t a crazy axe murderer. Because you trusted me.” He winks. “And because you thought I was hot.”

“Yeah, that was incredibly stupid and naive of me.”

“Are you sure? Am I a crazy axe murderer?”

“No but…”

“See, deep down you knew. And you trusted me.” He tugs at my elbow and makes me turn in his arms, so I’m facing him. “Smart and brave.” Rashid looks so pleased with himself at this conclusion that I can’t help but laugh. I bury my head in his chest and shake my head.

“Jay-zuhs, Rashid, seriously?”

I can feel his body shake with laughter as well while he holds me in his arms. I look up at him when I can feel him peppering kisses on my cheek and temple and along my jawline. He combs his fingers through my hair – and as amazing as it feels, I do need to get it trimmed. Soon.

“What shall we do with you?” He asks against the top of my head.

“Mhmm… I have an idea.”

“Let’s hear it.” Rashid says, still trying to do… something with my hair.

“Since we’re both naked…”

He cocks an eyebrow at me, but before he can even open his mouth to protest, I’ve already slipped out of my boxer briefs and flung them to the side. It’s a skill.

“As I said… since we’re both naked.” I give him a long look from underneath my eyelashes. “I would like to invite you to join me in my incredibly luscious bed.” I see a grin curling the edges of Rashid’s lips. “Later we can maybe order some pizza… because we’ll need sustenance.” Rashid’s grin widens. “For watching a movie…” Rashid looks at me sceptically. “Before we enjoy a bit of dessert on the couch.” I lean a little forward to whisper in his ear, my breath tickling the sensitive skin there. “And with that I mean the kind that burns calories, rather than adds to your daily intake.”

Apparently my suggestion is met with his approval, as Rashid’s grin now equals that of the Cheshire Cat.

“Smart and inventive…”

I laugh, and it turns into a surprised yelp as Rashid tackles me and slings me over his shoulder. I try to protest, but between my giggles and the wind being knocked out of my lungs, I just don’t have enough air to form words, so I only take advantage of my position and give Rashid’s ass a good smack.

When Rashid falls asleep on me, his head resting on my chest, we’re outstretched on my couch, our limbs somehow entangled, Rashid like a weighted blanket on me. I don’t mind. He doesn’t even feel that heavy, and aren’t weighted blankets supposed to be good for you? Relieve stress and anxiety? Help you sleep better? If that’s the case, then I hope Rashid can be my weighted blanket forever.

I’m still trying to make sense out of what he said earlier. Strong and brave? My father hit me so many times, and I never fought back. I only ever took whatever he was swinging my way. That’s not brave. Josie was the one who stepped in his way, buying me time to get away and taking the punch that was meant for me in the process.

When I lived on the streets, we often tried to help each other out. Especially T-Jay and me. Auntie Mae sometimes. But there was also a lot of rivalry. It was just as often fighting for your own survival. Fighting over a scrap of food or a moth-eaten, threadbare blanket. Most of the time, I was the one giving in, giving away things, rather than fighting for them. That wasn’t smart.

I’m still afraid to walk alone in the dark. It’s been almost four years since the attack, and it doesn’t seem to get better. That’s not strong.

I look down at Rashid’s sleeping form. His hair is neatly trimmed as usual, but there’s still enough to run my fingers through, and I brush my thumb along his cheek. He doesn’t wake, but I can see a smile forming on his face in reflex. He seems happy. I know he was genuine earlier. He sees all of these things in me. I don’t. But maybe that’s not important. Maybe it’s enough that he sees them in me. Maybe it’s enough for me to keep this wonderful man in my life.