The house had settled into a hush.
The breakfast dishes were cleared. The loft was quiet. Outside, the wind had picked up, rustling the trees with a rhythm that felt like breath.
Jermaine stepped out of the side room slowly, his shoulders squared but not rigid. He scanned the space, then walked toward the back porch where Emilia sat alone, her sketchbook closed beside her, untouched.
She didn’t look up when he approached. But she didn’t move away either.
Jermaine sat beside her, leaving space between them.
“I talked to Taylor,” he said.
Emilia nodded. “I figured.”
“She said I need to listen.”
Emilia turned slightly. “Are you ready to?”
Jermaine exhaled. “I’m trying.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Then Jermaine spoke again, slower this time.
“It’s going to take time. To accep
