I looked down at my hands. From now on, you tell me the truth and let me decide what to do with it. From now on, he said. Something in my chest loosened. I had spent weeks demanding control because control felt like safety.
But sitting there, I understood that what I wanted was not control over him. I wanted honesty enough to make my own choices. I should tell you something too. I said I am very bad at accepting help. I noticed I tend to treat needing people like a systems failure.
I noticed that too. And I am probably going to argue with you when I think you are wrong. That one was not subtle. I looked at him. But if you want to be in my life, I do not need you to rescue me.
I know. I need you to ask. I can do that. And I need you to believe me when I answer. He nodded.
I can do that, too. We did not kiss. We sat on the steps until Immani came home, saw us together, and stopped at the bottom of the walkway. You came back, she said. I did.
She nodded once. Good. That was all. A year later, Aurelus was stronger than it had been before the suspension. Revenue had increased.
Voluntary attrition had fallen. The research division Ronin wanted to cut released a new automation platform that became one of our most successful products. The board adopted the governance reforms I had promised. I delegated more. I built a stronger succession plan.
I stopped treating every disagreement as a threat to momentum. Most nights I left the office before 7. Not every night. I was still me. But I had learned to ask whether work truly required me or whether I simply needed to feel required.
Lantern Ridge continued operating quietly. Malachi still refused most public appearances. He still drove Immani to school. He still owned the same sedan. I told him several times that the car had earned retirement.