We helped Aira move into a small place near us. Adrian helped her get a job through one of his contacts. I took her shopping for things she’d never had the chance to buy for herself. Every Sunday, she came over for dinner, awkward at first, then slowly more relaxed as the kids began to call her “Auntie Aira” like it had always been that way.
One night, after everyone had eaten and the house was finally quiet, I stood at the sink washing dishes. Adrian came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on my shoulder.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I was so sure… if you found out, you’d walk away.”
I smiled and leaned back into his chest.
“Sometimes,” I said softly, “a secret isn’t a betrayal. Sometimes it’s just fear wearing the wrong mask. And sometimes… it’s love trying to find the courage to speak.”
