The Price of Love

Chapter 9: Christopher's POV - Learning Her Language

A month later

I'm learning that loving Trinity means learning to speak in a language I never needed before—the language of someone who's been hurt so deeply that kindness feels dangerous.

She loves me back. She told me so in the library that day, and she's said it since. But I can see her fighting the feeling, like she's waiting for me to prove her right about being unlovable.

Today, she's particularly quiet as we walk through downtown after school. She's been accepted to three colleges—all with full scholarships because her grades have been incredible—and I can see the weight of choice sitting heavy on her shoulders.

"You're thinking loud," I say as we stop at a red light.

Trinity glances at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Is that a thing?"

"With you it is. I can practically hear the wheels turning."

We cross the street, and Trinity stops in front of the courthouse. She stares up at the building like it holds answers to questions she's afraid to ask.

"Christopher, can I ask you something? And will you be completely honest?"

"Always."

"If I choose a college far from here, will you wait for me?"

The question surprises me, not because she's asking, but because of how she's asking. Like she expects me to say no, like she's giving me an easy out.

"Trinity, do you want me to wait for you?"

"That's not what I asked."

I stop walking and turn to face her fully. "Yes, I would wait for you. I would wait as long as you needed me to. But that's not the real question you're asking, is it?"

She's quiet for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the courthouse steps. "The real question is whether you'd want me to come back."

There it is. The fear that's been eating at her since college acceptance letters started arriving.

"Trinity." I wait until she looks at me. "I want you to go to college. I want you to experience being young and free and discovering who you are when no one's watching. I want you to make friends, take classes that excite you, maybe even date other people if that's what you need to do."

Her face falls, and I realize how that sounded.

"But," I continue quickly, "I also want to be the person you call when you have a good day or a bad day. I want to visit you on weekends and hear about your classes and meet your friends. I want to be part of your life while you figure out who you are, not someone you feel obligated to come back to."

"And if I change? If college changes me into someone different?"

"Then I'll love whoever you become, as long as that person still wants to be loved by me."

Trinity's eyes fill with tears, and I can see her struggling with something.

"My therapist says I sabotage good things because I don't think I deserve them," she says quietly.

Trinity started seeing Dr. Martinez two weeks ago, and I can already see subtle changes. She's more willing to voice her concerns instead of letting them fester into nightmares.

"What do you think about that?"

"I think she's right. I keep waiting for you to get tired of dealing with my issues."

"Trinity, you don't have issues. You have a history. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Yeah. Issues are problems you create. History is something that happened to you. You didn't choose to be hurt, but you are choosing to heal. That's not something to be ashamed of."

We find a bench and sit down, Trinity tucking her legs under herself in that way she does when she's thinking hard.

"I got into Berkeley," she says suddenly.

"That's incredible. Trinity, that's one of the best social work programs in the country."

"It's also three thousand miles away."

I nod, understanding the weight of that distance. "Is that where you want to go?"

"I think so. But I'm scared."

"Of leaving?"

"Of leaving you. Of you realizing that long-distance is too hard. Of coming back in four years and finding out you've moved on."

I take her hand, intertwining our fingers. "Trinity, I can't promise that long-distance will be easy. I can't promise that we won't have fights or moments of doubt or times when we miss each other so much it hurts. But I can promise that my feelings for you aren't going anywhere. Distance doesn't change love—it just tests it."

"And if we don't pass the test?"

"Then we'll figure out what comes next. Together. But Trinity, I think we're stronger than you're giving us credit for."

She's quiet for a long time, watching people walk by on the sidewalk. Finally, she speaks.

"I want to go to Berkeley. I want to study social work and maybe get involved in advocacy work. I want to become the kind of person who helps kids like I used to be."

"Then you should go."

"But I also want to come home to you. I want to call you when I've had a terrible day and know that you'll listen. I want to visit during breaks and show you all the things I'm learning. I want..." She pauses, taking a shaky breath. "I want to try building a life with someone who loves me."

My heart feels too big for my chest. "I want all of that too."

"Really?"

"Really. Trinity, you're not getting rid of me that easily. I've waited ten years to love you properly. A few more years while you conquer the world seems like a pretty fair trade."

When she kisses me this time, it tastes like hope and future plans and all the possibilities we're brave enough to reach for together.