Page 115 of October
You held me tonight with your body and your trust. That's what undid me.
I didn't know how much I missedbeing knownby you like this, how much I missed the sound you make when you're somewhere between laughter and tears, the way you tilt your head into my neck, like you're making room for both of us in the same breath. I didn't know how much I longed to feelwelcomedagain.
I carried so much shame into this room. Shame for the damage I caused. For the ways I left you lonely even when I was beside you. For how I treated something sacred like it was ordinary. I'll never stop wishing I could undo those things but tonight—you—you reminded me that love isn't about undoing. It's about choosing and you chose me again.
Do you know how holy that is? To be trusted by you? After everything?
Your bravery takes my breath away. Your softness undoes me and your love—this love—is the safest thing I've ever known.
I will spend the rest of my life honoring what you gave me tonight. I won't forget. I won't take it for granted. I'll hold this moment like I held you: gently, fully, with everything I have.
We are still writing this story. And tonight was a new chapter.
For October. For always.
Love,
Thomas
I woke to the faint sound of laughter, October's, light and bright, curling through the room like music I hadn't realized I'd been missing. For a second, I thought I was dreaming. Then I turned my head.
She was perched on the edge of the bed, knees tucked beneath her, wearing one of my old t-shirts, her hair still sleep-messy and wild. Her eyes sparkled with that mischievous glow that used to undo me in a heartbeat. "Good morning, sleepyhead," she said, voice playful as she nudged me with a pillow.
I groaned, rubbing my eyes like I hadn't just spent half the night hoping she'd still be there when I woke up. "You're early."
"Am I?" she grinned, tugging the blanket down a little so she could see me better. "Or maybe I just couldn't wait to see you again."
Her fingers brushed against mine, soft, unhurried, and suddenly the bed felt too big without her curled up beside me. I reached for her hand and gave it a gentle tug, wordlessly inviting her back into the space I'd been saving for her.
She crawled under the covers without hesitation, settling against me like she belonged there. Like she never left. We lay like that for a while, just breathing each other in, skin warm against skin, hearts beating in sync. She looked up at me, her voice low and drowsy. "You know," she murmured, "we should probably get up but I don't want to move yet."
I kissed the tip of her nose and smiled against her skin. "Me neither."
So we stayed like that, tangled in warmth and memory, the world quietly waiting on the other side of the bedroom door. It was the kind of morning we'd only dared to dream about during the harder months, uncomplicated, quiet, full of promise.
Of course,the universe had other plans.
Without warning, the door flew open with a bang loud enough to make us both flinch.
"DAAAD!" came Alice's voice, shrill with excitement as she barreled into the room like a tiny whirlwind.
I instinctively grabbed at the sheets, yanking them up to my chin like I was starring in some sort of awkward sitcom. "Morning, sweetheart!" I croaked, voice cracking slightly. "Could you maybe—uh—give us a second?"
Too late. She was already on the bed, bouncing, tugging at the edge of the covers like it was a curtain she fully intended to yank open. "Come ON! I made a drawing and you have to see it now or it disappears!"
October was laughing so hard her shoulders shook, offering zero assistance as I scrambled to keep the blanket securely around me.
"Sweetie," she managed between giggles, "Daddy's just... not ready to get up yet."
"Not ready?" Alice frowned. "Is he in trouble?"
"No, no trouble," I said quickly, my voice half-muffled by the pillow I was trying to disappear into. "I just need a minute, kiddo. Grown-up stuff. Very serious blanket-related business."
Alice tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. "You look weird."
"That's because I'm hiding," I said, trying to sound mysterious rather than mildly panicked. "It's part of a very important game. The Stay-in-Bed Challenge. Very advanced."
October snorted. "He's losing."
