This one's another long one, you guys!

It's A LOT, so enjoy.

Love,
~ShoamEmily

~

20th of April, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Angela: My eyes fluttered open at the feeling of Michael's lips brushing against my skin, each kiss more tender than the last.

He's been all over me since last night, probably hoping to calm my nerves.

The warmth of the early morning sun came through the curtains, wrapping us in a soft glow, and I smiled, savoring the moment.

But reality soon crept in, and I remembered our plans - the long drive ahead of us to LA.

After some back and forth with Frank, my fiancé finally agreed to the interview scheduled for today, but not without a few conditions.

He insisted that all questions had to be cleared through him first, and that he would need to approve the final cut.

He tried to convince me that he could handle the interview alone, but I refused to let him face it without me.

This was my life too, and I would stand by his side, no matter what.

And just a couple of weeks ago, we saw our babies again.

We discovered we were having a girl and a boy.

One of each, making me even more impatient to meet them.

I have been telling Michael I wanted to wait, to find out when they were born, but the second our doctor said she could tell us, I urged her to.

I remembered the look on her face when she realized who 'Joey' was during our last appointment.

Michael decided to drop his disguise that day, and it left her speechless.

Everything was falling into place.

Except for the wedding, which still remained completely unplanned.

Katherine wanted us to discuss the date, but emotionally, I wasn't ready for that yet. Not now, at least.

Michael placed gentle kisses on my shoulder, persuading me to wake up.

"Hmm," I stretched. "Good morning, Michael..."

His hand found my protruding belly, gently rubbing it. "Good morning, baby."

"How did you sleep?" I looked down at him, but he was already making his way to my collarbone.

"Great... You know I sleep better with you."

I moaned as his hand moved from my bump to my right breast, squeezing, almost possessively. "Mike, don't we have to leave in two hours...?"

But he didn't answer.

Instead, he gave it another tight squeeze, his fingers exploring the curves that had become more pronounced in recent weeks.

I bit my lip, caught in between my insecurities and his teasing.

I was well aware that I was much bigger now, the fullness of my breasts undeniably appealing to him.

His attention on them only heightened my awareness of the changes my body was undergoing.

Whether it was my abdomen that kept stretching, or my thighs that have thickened.

He had been enjoying my body more and more lately, and continued to worship it almost daily with soft caresses. I couldn't help but give in.

"Angela," he breathed into my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "You're so breathtaking."

My cheeks burned at his compliment as his fingers left my breasts.

They slowly made their way down to my inner thighs, where they teased.

I sighed, struggling to keep my composure. "Michael, we should really-"

"Shh. Just let me take care of you."

Michael went down my body with kisses, only stopping at my belly for a moment to jokingly tell our babies not to interrupt.

"I'm gonna make mommy feel so good..."

"We're gonna be late." I stated, feeling his warm lips against my thigh now.

They stayed there, sucking my skin with the goal of leaving a mark.

My body instinctively arched towards him, and he let out a satisfied chuckle.

He opened my legs slowly, situating himself between them, a familiar look of determination in his eyes.

I squealed when he lifted my thighs so they'd rest on his shoulders, and pulled me by my waist until his hot breath was felt on a particularly sensitive spot.

At that moment, everything else faded away.

The world outside, our upcoming interview, the pressure of being in the public eye, it all seemed irrelevant.

In this space - his bed, now ours, it was just Michael and me, lost in each other, our love growing deeper and more intense with every touch.

~

As we arrived at the studio, my chest felt heavy.

Was I nervous? Most likely, but I was determined not to show it.

Michael's hand grasped mine, guiding me as we stepped into the bright space.

The energy of the crew, with their quick movements and chatter, filled the air, only made me more nervous.

This is your life now, Angela.

I had to remind myself that daily.

If my growing bump wasn't enough to prove it, the shining ring on my finger did.

I looked down at my hand and played with the band.

The ring suddenly felt heavy, as if it would fall from my finger.

Why am I so nervous?

We practiced, I knew I was ready, yet my nerves wouldn't calm down.

Michael noticed my jitters when I accidentally exhaled loudly.

He squeezed my hand, his thumb brushing reassuringly over my knuckles.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and calming among the chaos.

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just... A lot going on in my head."

He gave me a knowing look. "I'll be right next to you, Angie. Just answer the questions, like we practiced."

He brought my hand that he held to his lips, planting a firm kiss on the back of it, to not ruin our makeup.

We approached the set. I really did try to focus on him, to calm down.

We took a seat on the love chair they had prepared for us, then the crew made some last-minute adjustments before the interviewer sat in front of us.

"Just be yourself." Michael reminded me as the director called for quiet on the set.

I took in a deep breath, letting Michael's hand be a lifeline.

This was our story to tell. And no matter how many cameras were pointed at us, or how many people around the world would watch this interview, we were ready to tell it.

If Michael was sure he wanted to do this, go public with it all, I was too.

I stole a glance at him.

He looked so at ease, a natural in front of the cameras. I couldn't help but admire him.

He quietly thanked the crew member who adjusted the microphone on his chest.

That cute nose of his twitched when the interviewer said we'll start in a minute.

I nodded, taking another deep breath as the cameras started rolling.

The interviewer made her introduction, not wasting any time before the first few questions came our way.

Michael had a way of easing into conversations that made it all look so effortless, and I let him take the lead.

He could see my nerves, stepping in whenever I hesitated.

I tried to stay present, but my mind wandered, focusing on his voice, how confident he sounded.

The interviewer was kind, professional, though I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, analyzed, as she tried to pick every aspect of our lives apart.

We didn't reveal everything; not how and when we met, at least.

And we mentioned how our babies were planned, it just happened quicker than expected.

A few white lies wouldn't hurt anyone.

Some things were just for us and the people closest to us.

Sure, I felt like we weren't telling our real story, but it didn't matter - our public image did.

And it wasn't going to change anything at home, anyways.

As the interview went on, the weight in my chest slowly lifted.

There were even cute moments that made the interviewer's smile widen.

We were asked about how the pregnancy was going, and I replied with a simple: "They're healthy, growing. I can't believe how big they're getting."

"How does it feel to be stepping into fatherhood, Michael?" she turned to him.

"It's... Magical, really," he answered with a huge grin. "I can't wait to hold them, teach them, and just... Be there for them. I feel so blessed."

"And you're having...?"

"That's only for us to know..."

He lifted my hand that he held, and kissed the back of it like he did before, then placed our intertwined fingers over my belly, where they stayed for the rest of the interview.

I mostly listened to him talk after that, only answering when necessary.

As a question about the wedding came up, I tensed slightly, but Michael was quick to step in, his answer practiced.

It wasn't perfect. I was a mumbling mess sometimes while he answered every question with confidence.

By the time the interview wrapped up, I could feel the tension in my shoulders easing.

We made it through.

~

Michael's laugh echoed through the studio, a polite, restrained version of the one I knew so well.

He stood by one of the producers, graciously agreeing to autographs and pictures, but not before asking me if I minded.

I waved him off, smiling. "Go ahead, enjoy it. I'll be fine."

As I waited with Bill and Frank, watching him from a distance, the manager leaned in. "You did great, Angela. I don't think I've told you this, but... Thank you for what you're doin' for him."

I turned to him, confused. "What I'm doing for him?"

"Reminding him what real love can look like. He didn't get much of it growing up, or even recently."

I looked back at Michael, who was smiling for the cameras. "But he has his fans, his family..."

"It's not the same. Most of that's superficial," Frank said. "He's been waiting for someone who loves him for who he is, not for his fame or his talent. You've changed him, Angela. He can't stop talking about you. Says he doesn't want to let you down."

He paused, glancing over to make sure no one was listening. "You know about his injury, right?"

Injury?

"Uh, no..." I admitted.

"His scalp, from a few years back. Got burned real bad on set. He's been in pain ever since- multiple surgeries, headaches, all of it," he lowered his voice even more. "The painkillers... That's what they're for. You do know about them, don't you?"

A pit formed in my stomach, the guilt weighing heavy as it all clicked.

I remembered the orange bottle, how confused and worried I was.

It seemed like so long ago with everything we went through recently.

All this time, I didn't know. I should've dug deeper. I should've known.

"Don't say anything," Frank added quickly. "He didn't want you to worry, didn't want your pity. Says you distract him from it."

I was about to say something, when a loud hum came from outside, almost like at one of Michael's concerts.

It sounded like so many people at once, yelling, cheering.

Oh, no...

"Michael! We love you!" we could all hear it from outside.

Bill glanced out the window, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

I peeked myself, my breath catching in my throat when I saw the sea of people outside the studio, fans and paparazzi, swarming the back exit.

It took me back to the chaos of Michael's last concert, the overwhelming crush of bodies and noise.

I could feel my chest tightening.

Michael heard it too. His face fell as he excused himself from the people surrounding him, and hurried back towards us.

"What's going on?" he demanded from Bill.

"Looks like word got out that you're here..." Frank groaned.

"What? How?! This interview wasn't public knowledge! Frank-" Michael started, but stopped when he figured it out. "Someone here leaked it."

He looked around the room, eyes narrowed and clearly irritated, as if searching for someone to blame.

I felt my heart beat even faster, seeing him so freaked out.

My breathing picked up as well, my throat closing from the thought of him being so stressed about this.

If he can't handle it, how can I?!

"Sir, I can call for more security to come escort you out." Bill suggested.

Frank nodded in agreement, but Michael didn't seem to hear them.

He was pacing now, his eyes flickering to the door.

It was all too much.

My head spun, the walls were closing in, and a loud buzzing in my ears drowned out the conversation.

Michael sighed, annoyed. "I guess we'll have to stay here until it calms down- Hey, Angie, you okay?"

I blinked fast, black spots covering my vision. "I can't breathe."

He was by my side in an instant, placing both his hands on my shoulders. "Baby, breathe, you're alright. I'm right here."

"I- I can't..."

"Yes, you can. Come on, deep breaths, in and out."

I tried to follow his lead, mimicking his calm breaths, but everything felt tight, suffocating.

"I- I need to get out of here." I said between short breaths, my chest still heavy.

My sight blurred again, worse this time.

Michael's grip tightened, making our eyes meet. "We will. I promise. Just stay with me for now."

His voice pulled me back, his brown eyes looked so deep into mine as he breathed with me.

He kept our eyes locked even when my breath steadied just enough to find some air.

I held onto him, focusing on the familiar sound of his breathing, trying to shut out the noise outside.

His hands stayed on my shoulders, and though my chest still felt tight, the weight of my initial panic was slowly lifting.

"You good?" he asked, his eyes full of concern as he watched me closely.

I nodded, my heart was still racing. "Yeah, I just... I need some air. Can we go home?"

Michael didn't hesitate, turning to Bill and Frank. "We need to leave. Now."

Bill, who had been talking on his radio, nodded in agreement.

"I got extra security on their way, but it's gonna take a bit to clear a path through that crowd. The police just got here, too, maybe we should give them a few minutes to-"

"We can't wait. Angie can't stay in here. Let's go before this gets worse." Michael glanced at the window, his jaw clenched.

Bill exchanged a look with Frank, and then with a sigh, he motioned us towards the back exit. "Alright, but we need to stick close. This crowd's no joke."

Michael took my hand, his grip firm, and Frank gave me the pair of sunglasses he kept for my fiancé.

We moved to the door, Bill and Frank leading the way.

The moment we stepped outside, the noise hit me like a wall.

The shouting, the flashes of cameras; everything collided in an overwhelming blur.

It was so much worse than it seemed from inside.

The crowd moved forward as soon as they spotted Michael, pushing against the police's barricades, their cries louder now, more frantic.

"Michael! Michael!" they screamed, hands reaching out desperately.

My heart raced again, my earlier panic threatening to resurface.

I held onto Michael's hand tighter, trying to keep my head down as we moved quickly towards the waiting car.

Bill and Frank pushed forward, only to be met by more grabby hands.

"Stay close!" Bill yelled over the madness.

We nearly made it to the car when fans pushed forward again, arms outstretched.

Then it happened.

Someone grabbed my arm - too hard, too fast.

I gasped as I was yanked off balance, my hand leaving Michael's.

My whole body slammed into the metal barricade that still separated me from them.

The fan tried to reach for my shirt even when a sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen and I yelped.

Her nails scratched against the skin of my arm, her breath heaving as she pushed against the barricade with wide eyes.

"Angela!" Michael's voice pierced through the crowd.

He rushed to my side, pulling me back towards him, his arms protective around my waist.

The same fan tried again with him, her hands attempting to clutch both of us.

"Do not touch her!" he hissed.

The pressure on my stomach left me breathless, a sudden cramp cutting through me like a knife.

"Get her in the car!" Michael shouted at Bill, his voice shaky now.

I was hustled into the car, still clutching my bump, my breaths shallow.

The pain was so intense. It radiated from my belly all the way to my lower back.

Michael was beside me in an instant, his hands trembling as they hovered over our babies, fear all over his face.

"Angela, are you okay? What happened? Did they hurt you?" his voice cracked.

"I... I don't know," I whispered, my hand pressing against the spot where I'd been hit. "It's my stomach... It hurts... Like really bad cramps."

His eyes grew wide with panic. "Bill! We need to go to the hospital- Now!"

The car launched as Bill barked orders into his radio, the crowd outside still roaring, though it felt distant now.

All I could focus on was the cramping that seemed to be getting worse with every passing second.

"I- I think s- something's wrong..." I stuttered.

Michael's face paled when he leaned closer. "Baby, hold on. We're going straight to the hospital."

I winced, another cramp shooting through me. "Michael, I'm scared..."

He cupped my face gently, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "It's gonna be okay. I'm here. I got you. Just breathe."

But as the pain only worsened, I couldn't shake that feeling in my chest.

~

The chaos outside the studio was overwhelming, but nothing compared to the fear gripping me now as the doctor checked my injuries.

I lay on the examination table, my robe pulled up, feeling exposed.

The cold gel from the ultrasound spread across my entire stomach, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.

The impact from the barricade earlier had left a nasty bruise across my bump, and every slight movement felt tender.

To add to it, I also cracked a couple ribs, making it painful to breathe.

As the doctor pressed the ultrasound wand against my skin, I winced.

It hurt terribly, although the cramps have subsided.

Every time the scanner moved, I was terrified that it would somehow cause more harm, that something would go wrong.

"Let's see here..." the doctor said calmly, but I could hear the concern underneath. His tone wasn't as relaxed as I'd hoped.

Michael was standing beside me, his hand in mine.

His grip was strong, but I could feel his tension too. We were both so scared.

"Are they okay?" my voice trembled, my eyes fixed on the doctor's face as he pressed the scanner harder across my belly.

He didn't answer right away. His eyes were glued to the screen, brows furrowed.

The seconds dragged on, and I felt my heart pounding in my ears.

"Doctor?" Michael almost pleaded.

The doctor pressed the scanner even more, and I flinched, another sharp pain going through my entire body.

"Ow!" I gasped, my free hand instinctively moving to protect my belly.

The doctor's expression softened, but he didn't stop. "Sorry, Angela. Just trying to get a clear view."

I exhaled loudly, holding back the tears.

An yet the pain was emotional, a deep fear that was taking ahold of me.

What if something happened to them? What if I couldn't protect them?

The room was too quiet, except for the faint sound of the machine.

Seconds felt like hours, and my anxiety was hanging there, a cruel reminder that I couldn't control the situation.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor turned the screen slightly. "Here's the first one, the girl."

The sound of her fast, steady heartbeat filled the room, and for a moment, my entire body slumped in relief. One of my babies was okay.

"Oh, thank God," Michael whispered, his forehead pressing against mine. "That's such a strong heartbeat... She's okay. You're okay."

But the relief was short-lived.

The doctor kept moving the wand, his brows furrowed again. "Let's find the second heartbeat."

I tensed up, my body instinctively tightening.

Why isn't he finding it? Why is it taking so long?

Even more pressure on my bruised stomach made me moan loudly, and a sharper pain shot through my abdomen.

More tears welled up in my eyes.

"Please..." I begged. "Please, just find it."

Michael squeezed my hand tightly. "It's okay, Ange, he's gonna be perfect, I promise."

But I wasn't so sure. I felt so helpless, laying there, unable to do anything but wait.

I've never felt this... Vulnerable before.

The pain from earlier, the constant fear of what could happen, it was all too much.

The doctor finally let out a quiet breath.

"There we go." he said, his voice filled with relief.

The second heartbeat echoed through the room, just as strong as the first.

I burst into tears, the tension breaking all at once.

My babies are okay. Both of them.

Michael kissed my forehead repeatedly, "See? They're doing just fine, Angie. You did so great."

But I barely heard him.

My mind was racing, still filled with guilt.

What if it had gone differently? What if something actually happened?

I let that fan grab me, I was careless, and it almost cost me everything.

The doctor wiped the gel from my stomach and turned to me with a soft smile.

"You've got two healthy babies in there, Angela. Everything looks good. The bruising is superficial, and your ribs should heal within a week, give or take... But I want you to rest and monitor you overnight for any cramping."

I nodded, barely processing his words.

All I could think about was how close I was to losing my babies.

~

Later that night, we finally settled down.

Michael sat beside me, his hand in mine, but today's events still lay heavy.

The hospital room was dimly lit, giving the room an oddly peaceful feel - almost too quiet after all the chaos.

I shifted in bed, trying to get comfortable, the dull ache in my lower abdomen a constant reminder of everything that happened.

I couldn't help but glance down at my belly, my free hand instinctively resting over the spot where the large bruises formed.

That moment kept replaying in my mind.

I could have lost my babies today, and I wouldn't forgive myself if I did.

The doctor had reassured us that both babies were fine, but I couldn't shake the guilt, and I knew Michael couldn't, either.

I should have been more careful. I should've seen it coming.

That moment when someone grabbed me, that split second, might have changed our lives today.

Michael was quiet, his fingers still intertwined with mine.

I could feel his eyes on me, the way his concern hung in the air.

How he yelled today scared me, I've never seen him like that. So angry, so terrified.

He didn't let go of my hand since we got here, like he was afraid that if he did, something terrible would happen.

I closed my eyes, trying to will myself into some kind of sleep.

But the thoughts kept going, louder now that the noise from outside died down.

How did we end up here? How did everything spiral so quickly?

Just this morning we were safe in our own little world.

A soft sigh escaped my lips, and I felt Michael move beside me.

He stood up, leaning over to press a kiss against my temple.

"I'll be right back." he whispered.

I nodded, watching as he walked towards the small bathroom.

The door shut softly, and the quiet returned.

I closed my eyes again, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of my babies' heartbeats, but the sound of a pill bottle shaking caught my attention.

It wasn't loud, just a faint rattle, but it pierced through the silence.

My eyes snapped open, and I stared at the bathroom door, the noise unmistakable.

The pill bottle shook again, and I froze, my heart tightening.

I knew what that sound was.

Frank's words from earlier suddenly flooded my mind.

"The painkillers... That's what they're for."

He'd been in pain for years, and I didn't even know.

How could I not know? How could I be so close to someone and miss something so important?

I felt another wave of guilt, stronger than anything else I felt that day.

I'm supposed to be there for him. To help him. That's my role as his soon-to-be wife.

Yet there he was, struggling quietly with something I didn't even know about.

I stared at the bathroom door, unsure what to do.

Should I say something? No. He's been through enough today.

But the sound of that pill bottle played in my mind, louder now.

My breath hitched again.

I didn't want to intrude, didn't want to push him to talk if he wasn't ready, but I couldn't just ignore it either.

The door opened, and Michael stepped out of the bathroom.

He didn't notice the worried look on my face at first, just crossed the room and sat back down beside me.

The bed dipped under his weight, his hand finding mine again.

I wanted to ask. The words were there, on the tip of my tongue, but they wouldn't come out.

Instead, I watched him, my heart aching at how exhausted he looked; how much weight he carried that no one else could see.

It wasn't just physical, but mental, too.

And yet he smiled. That soft, gentle smile, like everything was fine.

Maybe it's easier for him this way. To pretend.

But I couldn't, knowing my babies were going to need their father there to raise them.

"Michael..." I finally spoke, my voice hoarse.

He looked at me, his dark eyes searching mine.

"Yeah?" he said, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand.

I hesitated once more. I could hear the pill bottle in my head, along with what Frank told me earlier.

But I didn't want to pry.

I didn't want to push him away, not now, not after everything we'd just been through.

Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out, "Are you... Okay?"

He paused, his brows scrunching just slightly, as if he didn't expect the question.

"Of course," he said, though his voice had a hesitation to it that I wasn't used to. "My fiancée is safe, and our babies are healthy... Why wouldn't I be?"

I swallowed, trying to find the right way to say what I was feeling without making him cornered.

"I just... With everything going on... And earlier, after the interview, Frank mentioned something..." I trailed off, unsure how much to reveal.

His hand froze against mine, and I could see a hint of understanding in his eyes.

He knew what I was talking about, though he didn't say anything right away.

There was a long silence, and I suddenly felt like I overstepped, like I shouldn't have brought it up at all.

Michael's eyes dropped to our hands, his thumb still brushing over my skin, his movements slower now.

"It's nothing you should to worry about, Angie."

But the way he said it, told me it was definitely something.

I wanted to push, wanted to tell him that I was worried, that I wanted to help.

Something in his expression stopped me, though.

He didn't want me to know, didn't want me to see this side of him.

Maybe it was pride, maybe it was fear. Still, I could tell he wasn't ready to let me in.

So, I nodded, even if it didn't feel right.

"Okay." I whispered, squeezing his hand gently.

Michael then settled into the end of the bed, the silence between us grew heavier.

My heart thudded in my chest, louder now, urging me to still say something; anything.

I hated feeling like this, like we were tiptoeing around something important, but I didn't know how to bring it up without crossing some line.

I turned toward him slightly, watching his profile, his jaw tight.

He'd been so strong for me, for the babies, but who was being strong for him?

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I broke the silence.

"Mike..." I could see his body tense up in response.

He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking with mine again.

I knew he sensed where this was going.

"Yeah?"

There was hesitation in his voice, like he was bracing himself for something, and I felt bad for bringing it up again.

I just couldn't let it go.

"I... I don't want to push, but... I- I found some pills in the bathroom a few months ago, and with what Frank said..." I glanced down at our hands before looking back up at him. "I just- I want to help you. Please."

He pulled his hand back, rubbing his face. "It's... it's not what you think, Angie."

I could see the discomfort in his eyes, the way he seemed to retreat into himself, like he didn't want me to get too close to whatever this was.

"But you are in pain, aren't you?" I pressed gently, hoping he knew I wasn't judging him. "You've been dealing with this for a while, right?"

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping just a little, and I knew that I'd hit a nerve.

His eyes dropped to his lap, his fingers playing with the edge of the hospital blanket.

For a few long minutes, he didn't say anything, just sat there, like he was trying to figure out what to tell me.

"It's not that simple," he said finally, his voice quieter than before. "I don't like taking them. I don't... Want to. But sometimes, the pain is just..."

My heart sank, and I reached out instinctively, placing my hand gently on his arm, not caring about the pain in my abdomen. "Why didn't you tell me?"

His gaze flicked up to meet mine, and there was something raw in his eyes, something vulnerable that he rarely let me see.

"I didn't want to worry you," he admitted. "You already had so much going on- school, then you weren't feeling well, then the pregnancy... And everything else that comes with being with me. I didn't want to add to it."

I shook my head, "But, Michael... You don't have to carry all of this alone. You shouldn't have to."

He looked away, his jaw clenched again.

I realized he wasn't used to sharing this part of himself, this struggle.

Even in the short time we'd been together, he was the one taking care of everyone, but me especially.

Making sure I was okay. I realized how much he hid from me, from the world, and it made my heart ache.

I didn't know what to say, how to convince him that it didn't have to be this way.

That I wanted to help him the same way he always helped me overcome my problems.

But I could hear the resistance in his voice, see it in his brown eyes that were now glossy.

"I'm here for you," I promised. "We're in this together. I mean that."

He was quiet again, his gaze dropping back down to his hands. A tear slipped onto his high cheek.

After a long pause, he nodded, though it felt more like an acknowledgment than an agreement.

"I know," his voice broke. "I just... I don't want you to see that side of me, Angie."

I shifted on the bed, ignoring the ache in my belly again, and leaned closer.

My hand ran softly against his cheek to turn his face toward mine.

"I love every side of you, Michael," I said firmly. "Even the parts you don't want me to see. You don't have to hide from me."

His eyes met mine again, and this time, there was something softer in his expression, like my words got to him.

But there was still uncertainty that I knew wouldn't just disappear overnight.

After a moment, he sighed deeply, his shoulders relaxing just a bit more.

"Okay," he whispered. "When we get home, we'll talk. I promise."

Relief washed over me, though it was mixed with sadness.

I knew this was just the beginning of a conversation we needed to have, a conversation I didn't even realize was necessary until today.

"Thank you," I whispered, leaning forward to press my forehead against his. "I just wanna help you."

His hand came up to the back of my neck, and held me there for a moment longer.

"Mmhm," he hummed softly. "And I'm so sorry."

He wasn't just apologizing for not telling me about the pills; he was also apologizing for everything that happened today, even if he didn't need to.

"It's okay, Michael. We're safe now." I assured him.

We stayed like that for a while, our foreheads resting together.

There was so much left unsaid, so much we both needed to work through.

But for now, this small promise felt like a step in the right direction.

We'd talk when we got home.

And maybe, for the first time, he'd let me help carry some of his burdens.