The heaviness of Zaire’s words still lingered in the room like incense, deep and unshakable. But so did the quiet safety of the moment. I sat beside him on the couch, our hands still intertwined, and for once, I felt the tension in him ease just a bit.
"Wanna watch something stupid?" I asked softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
He let out a small laugh. "Like what?"
"I don't know. Some mindless reality show where grown people fight over glitter and baked goods."
Zaire smirked, the tension in his jaw finally relaxing. "You're not serious."
"I'm very serious," I said, reaching for the remote. "We need a break from lawsuits and press and thinking about diapers."
"Fine," he gave in. "But if there's a cake fight, I'm turning it off."
We ended up watching an episode and a half of the
