(Michelle POV)
The silence that followed our last exchange didn't feel sharp.
It felt careful.
Like two people standing at the edge of something fragile and choosing—deliberately—not to shatter it further.
Lara's eyes searched mine, not for forgiveness, not for absolution, but for something much more terrifying to ask for.
Permission to exist again.
I knew that look too well.
I'd worn it once.
Back when I still thought mistakes defined the entirety of a person.
She nodded slowly. "I don't expect everything to go back to normal."
Neither do I.
And that was the strangest, quietest comfort of it all.
We weren't pretending.
We weren't rewriting history.
We were just allowing space for something new to grow where something old had cracked.
"I know," I said gently, the faintest smile touching my lips. "We don't have to force anything."
She let out a breath she had clearly been holding for far too long.
