The decision came quietly,
Almost like a whisper that had been circling for months before it finally landed in her chest,
After a meditation that morning that had felt especially insightful.
She wanted to explore what it felt like to love herself first,
Belong to herself first.
Not chasing love or a sense of acceptance from outside of herself.
She told Nico over coffee that Saturday morning,
With the sunlight streaming through the front windows,
While Adriana was still asleep.
Nico leaned against the counter,
Stirring honey into his mug,
Watching her carefully,
As if bracing for impact.
As much as I love having you here,
Supporting me,
Loving me,
Her own voice surprised her with its steadiness.
I need to see why I needed different things from you or from Nathan,
Why I didn't feel enough just on my own.
I need to break the pattern of needing the men in my life to fulfill certain things for me.
Nico nodded slowly.
You mean patterns with us?
With Nathan?
With everyone,
She said,
Her hands curled around her mug,
Warming her.
I can't just keep moving from one tangle into the next.
Adriana deserves a mom who knows her own ground,
And I need to give that to myself.
Nico just nodded,
Eyes dropping to the floor,
Full of disappointment.
I can support that,
He said softly.
Whatever you need.
Lauren began waking nearly every morning with Adriana,
Her daughter's tiny hand curled around her finger.
Some days they stopped to watch the squirrels chase each other across the telephone wires,
Or simply sit under a tree and enjoy being together.
Other days,
When the silence of her own thoughts pressed in too close,
Lauren called out the colors of the blocks they played with,
Just to keep her mind anchored in something simple.
Nathan surprised her with friendship.
He showed up with pizza,
With her favorite toppings,
Or dropped by with a ridiculous story about a co-worker,
Just to make her laugh.
She kept waiting for the old pull,
The dangerous chemistry to resurface.
Instead,
What arrived was a quieter tenderness,
A deep friendship she could rest into.
You're different,
Nathan said once,
Watching her tuck Adriana into the stroller after a walk.
Like you've slowed down.
Maybe I finally stopped running,
Lauren answered,
Half-smiling.
I feel different.
Thanks for noticing.
He looked at her for a long time,
Then said,
Good.
Evenings after Adriana was asleep,
Lauren wrote in a journal she kept on the nightstand.
Sometimes she listed the ways she had mothered herself that day.
A bath without rushing.
A meal she actually savored,
That nourished her body.
An hour spent with her new paint set,
Instead of folding laundry.
Nico wanted to respect the space Lauren had requested,
And at the very same time,
He didn't want to lose her in this second chance of building a lifelong love with Lauren.
He wanted more than anything for them to live like the family they were.
