Chapter Twenty-Three
We tell the world slowly.
Not because we’re afraid, but because some things deserve to be held before they’re shared.
The first person we tell is Jasmine. She listens quietly over coffee, eyes flicking between us like she’s watching a story she’s been rooting for finally choose its ending.
“About time,” she says simply.
I laugh. Noah exhales like he’s been holding his breath.
My parents take the news with a mix of tears and quiet joy. My mother presses her hand to her chest, studying me the way she always does when she’s measuring whether I’m truly okay.
“You sound sure,” she says.
“I am,” I reply. And I don’t have to convince her.
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Planning doesn’t feel overwhelming the way I expected it to.
There are no elaborate visions, no rigid expectations. Just con
