“You had vanished. A classmate mentioned your parents relocated for your care. Following that, my mother fell ill and my world shrank incredibly quickly, but I did make an effort.”
“I assumed I just faded from your memory,” I confessed.
He gazed at me as if that was the most foolish statement I had ever made.
“Thea, you were the sole person I cared to look for.”
Three decades of missed connections and lingering emotions, and those exact words were what finally cracked my walls entirely.
We are a couple these days.
Taking it easy. Like grown individuals carrying trauma. Like humans who understand that reality can flip upside down in an instant, and choose not to waste energy acting like it won’t.
His mom receives professional attention now. He manages the coaching sessions at the facility we developed and advises on every fresh accessibility project we accept. He excels at his job because he refuses to act superior to anyone else.
A few weeks ago, during the launch of our public hub, a band was playing in the central lobby.
Jude approached my spot, offering his palm.
“Care to share a dance?”
I grabbed hold of it.
“We’ve already figured that out.”
