Brinley woke the next morning to sunlight spilling across her room, soft and golden, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She stretched slowly, every movement deliberate, almost cautious. Her phone lay face down on the nightstand. No message from Jaxson. No missed call. And somehow, that made her heart lift a little.
Breakfast was quiet. She moved methodically, washing dishes and tidying small things around the house. Her eyes drifted to the kitchen sink, now fixed perfectly from yesterday. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips. The leak had bothered her for days, but Jaxson had taken care of it without fuss, without drawing attention to himself. That simple, thoughtful act stayed with her.
A knock came at the door mid-morning. She paused, unsure, but when she opened it, it was him, Jaxson. No grand gestures. No words that carried expectation. Just a quiet presence that had begun to feel safe.
"I thought I'd check in," he said softly. "No rush. No pressure."
She nodded, feeling the tension in her chest ease slightly. There was no guilt. No obligation. Just awareness, that he could show up, consistently, without demanding anything in return.
The day went on, ordinary and uneventful, yet charged with the undercurrent of new understanding. Brinley didn't chase. She didn't push. She simply noticed the gestures, letting them sink in.
By evening, she realized that some things couldn't be rushed. Some things had to grow slowly, quietly, and steadily, just like trust.