THE WHAT IFS BETWEEN US.

I like the way our conversations unfold, deep, mysterious, like we’re both reaching for something unseen. He listens, and I find myself speaking truths I didn’t plan to share.

Sometimes, I drift into the what-ifs. There are so many now, I’ve lost count, each one a whisper of possibility, a door I’m too cautious to open.

I confessed today that I’m territorial, that jealousy found me when I least expected it. It slipped out clumsily, but strangely, it set me free. Funny how honesty can make you laugh right after it makes you blush.

Am I letting my guard down? Maybe. Maybe I want to. But fear is a familiar friend; it tugs at the edges of every new beginning.

He looks into my eyes, steady, searching, and I wonder what he sees there. Do I imagine too much? Does he see the woman, or the mother still learning how to love without losing herself?

I leave with questions, always questions, but also with a quiet smile. Something inside me softens each time we meet.

What next? Maybe tomorrow will tell. Or maybe the mystery is the answer itself.