Chapter 18: Building Something Real

I think I've learned that love isn't a single moment, one big bang where everything falls into place. Love is built, piece by piece. It's in the quiet mornings when you're both too tired to talk, but still lay next to each other, wrapped up in your own world. It's in the inside jokes, the moments where you don't need to explain yourself because they just get you. It's in the trust that grows slowly, like a plant needing time and patience to bloom.

Amir and I were building something real. Something I didn't expect to be so important, but now that it was here, I couldn't imagine my life without it. Without him. We weren't perfect—hell, far from it—but the more time we spent together, the more I realized how much I cared about him. How much I needed him in my life.

It wasn't always easy, though. Amir still had his walls, his fears. And I knew that. Every time we spent time together, I could feel him inching closer to letting go of them. But there were days when it felt like he was retreating again, too scared to get too close. I could see it in the way his gaze would flicker away from mine or the way he would pull back, like he wasn't sure if I was really staying. And I understood that. I understood what it meant to be afraid of losing someone before you even let them in.

But the thing is, I wasn't going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

It had been a few days since we had that conversation on the roof, and things between us were still in this slow, steady progression. He was talking to me more, sharing little bits of himself here and there. We were still learning how to navigate this, how to be more than just two people who cared for each other but didn't know how to show it.

I didn't know if he was fully ready to let me in, but I wasn't going to rush him. I had to remind myself of that sometimes—he was healing, figuring out how to trust again. And maybe it wasn't a straight line, maybe it was messy, but I was okay with it. We were both figuring it out together.

Today, we decided to take a walk around the neighborhood, just to get out of our heads for a bit. The weather was perfect, warm but not too hot, the kind of late spring day that made you want to be outside all day long. Amir wasn't as quiet as he used to be, but there was still this sort of hesitation to him, like he wasn't sure how much of himself he could give away without getting hurt.

We walked side by side, the occasional comment about whatever caught our eye—some random kid on a bike, a dog barking at a squirrel—but we didn't really talk about us. I wanted to, but I didn't want to push it. There was something about these simple moments that felt like progress. Being with him, without needing to rush into heavy conversations or figuring out what this was. We were just... together.

Amir stopped suddenly, pulling me to a halt with a gentle tug on my sleeve. I raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him.

"What's up?" I asked, watching him look around like he was searching for something.

"I don't know. I just wanted to take a break," he said, his voice a little quieter than usual.

I nodded, not wanting to pressure him. We sat down on the nearby bench, the sounds of the city fading into the background as we both stared out at the street. It was moments like this where I wanted to say something, to reach out and tell him everything I was thinking. How much he meant to me. How much I wanted him to trust me, to believe me when I said I wasn't going anywhere.

But I didn't say anything. Not yet.

After a few moments, Amir turned to me, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to find the right words. I could tell there was something on his mind, something that he'd been holding onto.

"You know," he started, his voice almost hesitant. "I don't know how to do this. To be... real. With you, I mean."

I turned my head to look at him fully, my heart squeezing just a little. "You're doing fine," I said softly. "You don't have to be perfect, Amir. I'm not asking for perfection. Just... be here. Just be with me. That's all I need."

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "I know. But it's hard. It's hard to trust someone when you've been let down so many times before."

I reached over, resting my hand on his, squeezing gently. "I get it," I said, my voice steady. "I really do. But you don't have to do it alone. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

There was a long pause, and for a moment, I thought he was going to pull away. But he didn't. Instead, he turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with mine. It was the smallest gesture, but it felt like everything.

"I don't know how to stop being scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to stop expecting everyone to leave."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself steady. I didn't want to make him feel like he was a burden, but damn, hearing him say that was hard. I didn't want him to feel like he had to carry that weight by himself.

"You don't have to stop being scared," I said, my voice softer than before. "You don't have to do anything but be yourself. I'm not leaving you, Amir. I'm not going anywhere."

He finally met my eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I saw something that looked a little like relief. It wasn't a huge thing, but it was there—just a glimmer, a crack in the armor.

"I believe you," he said quietly. "I really do."

My heart swelled a little, and without thinking, I leaned over and kissed him. It wasn't a long kiss, just a quick press of our lips together, but it felt like everything I'd been trying to say without words.

When I pulled away, I smiled at him. "We'll figure it out," I said, squeezing his hand. "One step at a time. Together."

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't much, but it was real. And that was enough for me.

We sat there for a while longer, not saying much, just letting the quiet comfort us. The weight of everything that had been left unsaid, all the fears and insecurities, seemed a little lighter in that moment. And I think that's when I realized how far we'd come, even without realizing it. We didn't need to talk about everything all at once. We didn't need to have all the answers.

All we needed was to be here, together. Taking it slow, taking it day by day. Trusting that we could handle whatever came next.