Emily's POV
The scarf was still on her desk when Emily woke, draped across her chair like a small, waiting presence. She touched it absently as she tied her hair for work, the fabric sliding through her fingers with a softness that startled her...
Clara had gone to bed grinning last night, talking endlessly about Uncle Ryan and Uncle Julian. The names had caught Emily off guard at first—Clara rarely gave people nicknames, and even more rarely did she adopt them as family.
Emily remembered her sister's words as if they were written into her own skin: "They don't make me feel small."
Her chest tightened. For so long, she had tried to be everything Clara needed—sister, parent, protector—yet there had always been a quiet ache inside her, a fear she was never enough. And suddenly, here were two strangers who had stepped in and made her little one glow again.
At the office, Emily's distraction was obvious. Lila caught it first. "That's your third sigh in ten minutes. Do you want to talk, or should I count?"
Daniel chuckled, leaning against the desk. "It's about Clara, isn't it?"
Emily hesitated, then whispered, "She's… happy. Happier than I've seen her in years. There's this man—Ryan. She calls him Uncle Ryan. And his friend, Julian. She says they listen. They make her feel safe."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Lila reached over, squeezing her hand. "Then maybe you should be grateful, not afraid."
Daniel nodded. "Not everyone is out to hurt you, Em. Sometimes… people just show up, and stay. Let her keep this joy. And maybe let yourself have a piece of it too."
Emily swallowed hard, blinking fast. For once, she didn't fight the truth of their words. "I… I want to meet them," she whispered. "I want to see the men who make my sister laugh like that."
Ryan's POV
Ryan leaned back in his leather chair, his gaze fixed on the folded paper Clara had slipped into the shopping bag. A doodle of stick figures—two tall, one small—beneath which was written in large, uneven letters: "Thank you Uncle Ryan and Uncle Julian. From Clara (and my sister Emily)."
He'd smiled when he first saw it, but now, staring at it again, something unfamiliar pressed against his chest. Responsibility. The kind he hadn't let himself feel in years.
Julian strolled into the office, dropping a file on the desk. His eyes caught the doodle instantly. "She's already adopted us, huh?" He chuckled. "Uncle Ryan. Has a nice ring to it."
Ryan gave him a dry look, but Julian only leaned closer. "You know, you could take this as a compliment. Kids don't hand out trust freely."
Ryan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not just that. She reminds me what it's like… to be believed in. Without expectation."
Julian's teasing softened into something steadier. "Then maybe you shouldn't fight it. You're good with her, even if you won't admit it. She sees something in you—and Emily probably does too, even if she's hiding it behind caution."
Ryan hesitated, the weight of Clara's innocent scrawl pressing harder. "It's dangerous to let people close."
"Or," Julian countered gently, "it's dangerous to never try. You've carried your scars long enough, Ryan. Maybe this is the world's way of asking you to heal, not just work."
Ryan said nothing, but his hand lingered over the doodle longer than he meant it to.
Clara's POV
Dinner smelled of garlic and stew, the kind Emily always made when she wanted to comfort them both. Clara hummed as she set the table, swinging her feet while Emily poured soup into bowls.
"You're in a good mood," Emily observed with a small smile.
Clara nodded eagerly. "I was thinking about Uncle Ryan and Uncle Julian. They're funny. And kind. And they make me feel… safe. You'd like them, Emily." She hesitated, then blurted, "You should meet them."
Emily's hand paused mid-motion. Clara's heart jumped—had she said too much? But instead of the frown she expected, Emily's expression softened.
"You really like them," Emily murmured.
Clara grinned. "Yes! Uncle Ryan always listens. And Uncle Julian… he's like the sunshine in the room." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Uncle Ryan pretends to be serious, but I think he likes when people laugh."
Emily laughed—really laughed, the sound warm and startling even to Clara's ears. "Is that so?"
Clara nodded so hard her hair bounced. And for the first time in a long time, their little apartment didn't feel like a cage, but like a home again.
Emily's POV (Closing)
After dinner, Clara drifted off to sleep mid-sentence, her lips curving around the words Uncle Ryan before she fully succumbed to dreams. Emily tucked her in, brushing a hand across her forehead.
Alone in the quiet living room, Emily picked up the scarf again, running her fingers along its edge. Gratitude swelled in her chest, thick and unsteady.
For years, she had convinced herself she and Clara only had each other. That was enough, even if it was heavy, even if it was lonely. But now… Clara had friends. Real friends. Men who treated her with gentleness, who made her feel valued.
And Emily, for once, didn't feel afraid.
She whispered into the silence, a vow blooming unbidden from her lips: "I want to meet them."
And in that quiet, the word safe didn't sound like an illusion anymore. It sounded like a promise.