Julian

Not quite trust.

But something like hope.

The kind of hope that whispers maybe this could actually work.

Maybe two broken people could build something real.

Maybe he meant it when he said he wanted to try.

Maybe I could be brave enough to let him.

I sat on the floor of my bedroom for a long time.

Then I stood up, walked to my nightstand, and picked up my phone.

I opened my text thread with Julian.

The last message was from yesterday: Thank you for sending Marcus. I'm okay.

I typed: Thank you for apologizing. Properly. Without excuses. That mattered.

I stared at the message for a...