"Every step forward, no matter how small,
brings us closer to where we're meant to be"

I didn't leave the house until after ten AM. My routine was already shot—I'd slept through my alarm and missed Pilates. That never happens. I'm the world's lightest sleeper, but Chris didn't wake me up this morning when he left for work at six. He always wakes me up with his grunting and cursing and taking the dogs out. I guess I was just that drained last night from wedding planning. Marie's going to kill me for stressing out and doing her job, but how can I not? There's still so much to do. September is four months away. Four. It used to excite me. Now it terrifies me.

Last night wasn't bad. Chris and I actually spent time together at the house. He even said he missed it. And of course, I miss how we were, too. But something's changed. I don't know how or when it started. Maybe it's just... life. Busy schedules. Stress. Not that those are excuses. I just don't want to push him or seem like I don't support how hard he's been working lately. We're both preoccupied. But if space is supposed to be a good thing, why does it feel like we're drifting so far apart that we might not find our way back?

"Morgan?" Faith's voice yanked me out of my spiral.

I blinked, only now realizing she'd been saying my name for a while.

"Sorry," I mumbled, shaking my head. "What were you saying?"

"If we're not working on the project, what are we doing?" She repeated herself.

I let out a breathy laugh, tugging at my hair in frustration. "Don't hate me, but I have to go through all of these clothes today. If I don't, they'll just sit here forever. I swear, you can keep whatever you want."

"Morgan..." Faith's voice was firm, her scowl aimed at the mountain of boxes stacked around us.

"Pleaseeee?" I pressed my palms together in mock prayer, shooting her my best puppy-dog eyes.

Her shoulders sagged with a sigh, and her face softened. I'll take that as a yes.

My eyes lit up as I clapped my hands. "I love you!"

"You're lucky I love you," she teased, walking around the desk to stand beside me, ready to dive in.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, I leaned into her, resting my forehead lightly against hers and grinning. "Thank you. I couldn't do any of this without you. I literally love you."

She smiled back, her eyes warm. "You're welcome. And yes, you could. But I love you, too."

We laughed, easing back from each other to dig into the chaos.

"Oh, this is cute," Faith said, pulling an ultra-mini skirt from one of the packages.

"It's all yours," I said without even looking up from the box I was tearing into.

"No. Girl, I can't keep this," she protested, even as she held it up to her hips and glanced at the mirror behind us.

I turned to her with a smile. "It looks so good on you. You're keeping it."

She shook her head with a laugh. "I can't believe I'm friends with such a huge influencer."

I rolled my eyes, smirking.

"No, seriously," she said, rummaging through another box. "It's weird to see you be so— I don't know— down-to-earth and humble; like you seem nice online but you're an influencer so, like, I expected you to be totally different. You just have the perfect life. I'd probably hate you if I didn't love you."

"Will you be my maid of honor?" The words tumbled out of me before I could think, and I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for her answer.

Faith froze.

I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders drooping as embarrassment crept over me. "I know we haven't known each other that long, but you've been such a good friend, I just—"

"Shut up, Morgan," Faith interrupted, a playful smirk tugging at her lips before her expression softened. "Of course!"

"Wait, really?!" I squealed, a surge of joy lighting me up.

She nodded, grinning so wide I could see every tooth. "Yes! I was hoping you'd ask me. I mean, Jabari mentioned you didn't really have anyone else to ask, but I didn't want to, like, assume—"

I didn't let her finish. I lunged forward, wrapping her in a tight hug and gasping. "No! I wanted to ask you, but I didn't know if it'd be weird. You're literally my best friend."

"You're my best friend, too!" she exclaimed, gripping my hands as we pulled back, our smiles reflecting each other's.

My chest tightened, and for a moment, I thought I might cry. "I just didn't want to rush it, you know? Last time I got close with one of Jabari's girlfriends... it didn't go well."

"I know," she said, her voice soft as her lips dipped into a sympathetic pout. "And I didn't want you to think I was just trying to be your friend because of Jabari."

We hugged again, this time slower, and when I pulled back, my face ached from smiling so wide.

"Oh my gosh," I gasped, suddenly hit with a thought so urgent I nearly forgot to breathe.

"What?" Faith asked, her brows lifting as she tried to read my expression.

"We have to find you a dress!"

➤

I barely touched my salad, dragging my fork through the dressing as Faith talked about something that I wasn't really listening to. The sun was warm, a soft breeze drifting through the patio, but none of it settled me. My mind was too wrapped up in things I didn't want to admit were bothering me.

Jabari showed up a few minutes late, dropping his keys onto the table with a smirk. "Ladies," he greeted, pulling out a chair. "What's good?"

Faith smiled at him. "Not much, just waiting on you."

I forced a small smile, but even that felt like too much effort. I could feel Jabari's eyes on me, studying the way I stabbed at my food like it had personally offended me.

"A'ight, what's up with you?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He shot me a look. "Don't play dumb. You're sitting there looking like someone stole your puppy."

Faith hid a smirk behind her glass.

I sighed, dropping my fork with a little more force than necessary. "It's Chris."

Jabari raised an eyebrow. "Of course it is."

I ignored that. "He's just... off. Distant. It's like—I don't know. It feels like he's keeping something from me. Like there's a part of him I can't reach."

Jabari tilted his head, thinking. "You ever think maybe you're the one not letting him in?"

I blinked. "What?"

He shrugged. "I mean, you're sitting here complaining about how he's acting, but have you actually took a second to look at him? The man's going through it, Morgan. Maybe instead of focusing on what he's not telling you, you should be paying attention to what he is showing you."

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

Jabari reached for his drink and, almost like an afterthought, added, "That, and there's this girl at the gym who won't stop flirting with him."

My stomach dropped. My head snapped up so fast Faith nearly choked.

"Sam?" My voice was sharp, controlled, but I felt the heat rising in my chest.

Jabari just chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax. It's nothing. Chris barely even looks at her. I'm just saying... you worried about all the wrong things."

I narrowed my eyes. "Jabari... is he cheating?"

Jabari gave me a deadpan look. "Come on, Morgan. You really think that?"

I hesitated, then let out a breath, feeling stupid for even asking. "No... I just—I don't know. I feel like I don't know what's going on in his head."

Jabari leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Then pay attention to him. Because whatever's going on with him? It ain't about some random girl at the gym. He's carrying a lot of weight. And if you ain't careful, you're gonna make it worse."

I swallowed, staring at my plate.

Faith finally spoke up. "He's got a point, Morgan. You and Chris have been through too much to start second-guessing each other now."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah... I know."

But even as I said it, something still didn't sit right. Something between me and Chris was off. And maybe, just maybe, Jabari was right—maybe I needed to stop worrying about what Chris wasn't saying and start listening to what he was.

➤

By the time I got home, the weight on my shoulders felt heavier than it had all day.

The house was quiet, except for the hum of the dryer and the occasional shift of fabric as I folded another shirt. I moved slowly, smoothing out the creases, my mind far away from the task at hand.

I'd been out of it all day. Jabari was right—I was carrying too much, but instead of dealing with it, I kept pushing forward like if I just kept moving, it would all sort itself out. But it wasn't sorting itself out.

Chris and I had been living side by side, sharing the same space but feeling miles apart. And I knew it wasn't just me feeling this way—he felt it too. The weight of everything we'd been through, the uncertainty of what was next.

I exhaled sharply, shaking out a pair of jeans before folding them. If I didn't talk to him now, I'd just keep avoiding it. And I was tired of avoiding it.

I stacked the last of the clothes in the basket, balanced it on my hip, and stepped out of the laundry room. The house was dimmer now, bathed in the warm glow of the evening sun spilling through the windows.

As I walked through the hallway, my fingers tightened around the edge of the basket. When I passed Chris's office, I peeked in out of habit. He was at his desk, completely absorbed in his work, pencil moving in steady strokes across the paper.

For a second, I kept walking.

I made it a few steps before I stopped.

My chest rose and fell as I shut my eyes, gripping the basket a little tighter.

Just do it, I told myself in my head.

If I kept walking, I'd find another excuse, another reason to put it off. But Jabari's words echoed in my head: You're worried about all the wrong things. Pay attention to him.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I turned around.

I shifted the basket higher on my hip and nudged the door open gently.

I didn't want to do this—not after the day I'd had, I already felt drained. But I knew if I let it sit any longer, it would fester. I'd spend the night tossing and turning, running through every possible scenario instead of just asking him.

I found Chris in his office, the door slightly ajar. He was at his desk, sketching something, his fingers smudged with lead. I hesitated for half a second before pushing the door open gently.

"Hey," I said, voice softer than I expected. "Can we talk?"

Chris startled, dropping his pencils onto the desk with a quiet clatter. He exhaled and sat back, nodding as he wiped his hands on his jeans.

"I know what this is about," he said.

I raised an eyebrow, stepping inside and setting the laundry basket down. "You do?"

He gave me a small, tired smile. "Yeah."

I crossed the room slowly, lowering myself into the chair across from him. I folded my hands in my lap, suddenly unsure how to start.

Chris leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "Look, if this is about that girl at the gym, I swear, I barely notice her."

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. "Jabari has a big mouth."

Chris smirked. "That he does." He rubbed the back of his neck, expression growing more serious. "But I get it. If I were you, I'd be wondering too."

I studied him. The way he held himself, the weight in his eyes. It hit me then—he wasn't angry or defensive. He understood.

"This isn't really about Sam," I admitted. "I just feel like... something's off between us."

Chris nodded, like he'd been waiting for me to say it. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I feel it too."

A thick silence settled between us, not hostile, just heavy. I sighed and leaned back. "I don't know what to do, Chris. I feel like I'm holding everything together, and at the same time, I feel like I'm failing at it. I'm exhausted. And then when I look at you, I can tell you're exhausted too, but we're not talking about it. We're just... coexisting."

Chris exhaled, running a hand over his jaw. "I know," he said. "And I'm sorry."

I frowned. "You don't have to apologize—"

"I do." He met my eyes. "Because I have been distant. I know you feel it. I just—" He blew out a breath. "Every time I sit with my thoughts, all I can think about is how much we've been through. And I don't want that to be our whole life, Morgan. I don't want to be the guy who's always looking over his shoulder."

I swallowed hard. "I don't either."

His fingers tapped restlessly against the desk. "But I don't know how to just... shut it off."

I nodded, understanding more than I wanted to. "You don't have to shut it off, Chris. You just have to let me in. We're supposed to do this together, remember?"

He looked down, nodding slightly. "Yeah."

I reached across the desk, covering his hand with mine. "We're okay," I said, more certain than I had been all day. "But we have to be open with each other. Even when it's messy. Even when it's hard."

Chris flipped his hand over, lacing his fingers through mine. "I can do that. Can you?"

I squeezed his hand and nodded. "I can."

The tension between us didn't disappear completely, but something shifted. Maybe we weren't completely on the other side of it yet, but at least we weren't standing still.

At least we were moving forward.