Chapter 14
By the time we turned twenty-six, we had built something real.
Not perfect.
Real.
We still argued sometimes.
I still got sad for no reason some mornings. She still got jealous in weird, fierce little flashes that made her look almost offended by gravity itself.
But even our arguments felt different from the life I’d had before.
With Nate, conflict meant punishment.
With Olivia, it meant honesty.
One winter evening, after dinner, she sat beside me on the couch in unusual silence.
Then she asked, almost shyly, “Do you want to travel with me?”
I looked over.
“Iceland,” she said. “Or Belgium. The Netherlands. Canada. Norway. Sweden. Anywhere.”
For someone who had always carried herself like she owned every room she entered, she suddenly looked almost childlike. Hopeful. Uncertain. Waiting.
I stared at her and felt my chest tighten with love.
This woman had once walked three miles through a storm with me burning on her back.
She had fought for me, cooked for me, kissed me breathless, seen the ugliest parts of me and called them lovable.
And now she was asking me like I still had the power to refuse her.
I laughed softly.
Then I reached over and took her hand.
“Instead of a trip,” I said, “how about becoming my legal partner?”
She blinked.
For once in her life, Olivia looked completely stunned.
I smiled and squeezed her fingers.
“My girlfriend,” I whispered, “want to make it official?”
And just like that, the proud white bird who had always known exactly what to say had no words at all.
She only stared at me, eyes bright, lips parted, looking happier than I had ever seen her.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
We just sat there, fingers intertwined, smiling like idiots.
Then she tackled me back onto the couch and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe.
Outside, the city kept moving.
Cars passed. People hurried home. Somewhere, a siren wailed in the distance.
But inside that room, in her arms, I felt the simplest and rarest thing in the world.
Chosen.
Not as the safe option.
Not as the convenient one.
Not as the girl who gave the most and asked for the least.
Chosen fully.
Chosen fiercely.
Chosen once and for all.
And that, I think, was the moment I finally understood what love was supposed to feel like.
Not a compromise.
Not a calculation.
Not something divided into portions and passed around.
Love is singular.
And this time, it was mine.