Everything is Grace Ch. 05

They were getting ready for the reading group. Just some casual dinner thing - soft lighting, recycled wine bottles, everyone pretending not to care too much. Emily was in the mirror fixing her eyeliner, wearing a white shirt Grace liked.

Grace stood behind her, still buzzing a little from the last few days. Everything had been landing. Emily was listening, showing up, soft in the right moments, sharp in others. It felt... easy.

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head.

"Take your underwear off before we go."

Emily paused, one hand still near her eye. "What?"

Grace leaned on the doorway. "Just feels like the kind of night."

Emily turned halfway, frowning. "Why?"

Grace hadn't thought it through. And... didn't have a good answer. It had just come out. Everything had been clicking and she'd let it carry her.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "I don't really want to."

Grace, slightly disappointment, slightly confused, decided to back off. "Sure. That's fine."

Emily looked at her for a second longer, then turned back to the mirror. "It's freezing anyway."

Grace let out a small breath and sat down on the edge of the bed, tying her boots. The mood changed slightly, albeit noticeably. A little static in the air.

She'd overreached. Not catastrophically. But enough to feel it. The ask had been too much, too sudden. Not where they were - not yet.

Later, at dinner, Emily was herself again. Laughing. Focused. She got into a passionate dicussion on mutual aid. She looked serious and effortless, clearly empowered by being "with Grace".

Grace couldn't stop watching her. As the room thinned out she leaned in, hand lightly on Emily's back.

"Hey," she said quietly. "You're still the hottest person in this room."

Emily turned, smiling slightly. "Even in the bad underwear?"

"Especially in the bad underwear," Grace said. "You're still exactly what I want. Always."

Emily rolled her eyes but didn't pull away. Grace let her hand stay there for a few seconds longer before pulling back.

Back at Grace's place, they didn't talk about it. Emily curled into her on the couch, and Grace wrapped her arms around her like nothing had been off at all.

Next time, she'd wait. Let it build again. Not because she was scared of the no - but because she didn't want to waste a yes.

****

The bar was packed and home to way too many conversations at once. A Thursday night, post-panel. The alt-crowd drinking gin and smoking real cigarettes, never elf bars.

Grace had already taken over the corner table. Her usual constellation gathered loosely around her - Florence in a linen blazer, two PPE chaps looking always unimpressed, a visiting PhD from Paris with a nose ring like a tiny weapon. And Siobhan: inked sleeves visible under a sleeveless black top, rings on every finger, one boot up on the chair rung, observing the room like she owned the copyrights to everyone's secrets.

Emily hovered near the bar, trying to catch the bartender's eye. Grace didn't glance over. She just raised a hand and said, calm and crisp:

"She'll have the Merlot. She's not drinking spirits tonight."

Emily blinked.

The bartender looked over. Grace still didn't turn her head. "Same as me. Trust me, she'll thank me in the morning."

Emily half-opened her mouth, then stopped. Grace's tone - cool, amused, confident - made interruption feel childish. She nodded.

When the drinks came, Grace took both glasses, passed one to Emily without looking. The handoff was seamless. And definitely not affectionate.

Across the table, Florence raised her eyebrows. "Did she lose speaking privileges?"

Grace smirked. "She doesn't like deciding. Makes her anxious."

That got a laugh - amused, complicit, comfortable. The kind of laughter that said: this has been going on long enough that it no longer surprises anyone.

Siobhan didn't laugh. She leaned back in her chair, boot still hooked on the rung, gin untouched. Her gaze flicked between them, then settled on Emily for just a second longer than polite.

Then, lightly: "Is this your soft launch?"

Emily felt her stomach flip. Grace turned her head slowly, smiling.

"We're not doing Instagram captions," she said. "Everyone already knows what's what."

Someone from the PPE contingent grinned. "So you're admitting it now?"

"Admitting what?" Grace asked, faux-innocent.

"That she's the one you always bring."

Grace shrugged. "She listens."

A pause. Then, with a flick of a smile: 
"And she sees more than she lets on - unlike the rest of you theatre kids."

That caused a few sharp laughs, Florence half-scoffing into her drink. One of the guys rolled his eyes in mock offense.

Emily smiled - a flicker of warmth in her chest, despite the heat crawling up her neck.

Siobhan still didn't laugh. She was watching Grace too closely for that. Her thumb tapped slowly against her glass. Just once. Then she stood, said something to Florence, and disappeared toward the smokers outside.

Later, when Emily went to the bathroom, someone she barely recognized from the St. John's crowd caught her on the way.

"Hey. You're with Grace, right?"

Emily nodded, too quickly. "Yeah."

They smiled. "Cool. I've heard."

Emily stood in front of the mirror longer than necessary. Her face gave nothing away. She wasn't calm. But she'd been noticed. Not for herself - but for being Grace's.

It felt both good and weird at once. Like something she might start needing, and something she might start loathing.

****

The flat was quiet, soft with leftover noise from the bar still humming in their bodies. Grace was stretched across the bed in a loose tank top and underwear, scrolling through something on her phone.

Emily hovered at the foot of the bed, flushed from wine.

"Your friends are intense," she said, half-smiling. "You were kind of... bossy, though."

Grace didn't look up. "Was I?"

Emily sat down on the edge of the bed. "Not in a bad way. Just... everyone could see it."

Grace set her phone down slowly. "And that bothered you?"

"No, not really" Emily said quickly. "It was just obvious."

A pause. Grace's expression didn't change, but something in her attention shifted. She leaned forward slightly.

"Obvious how?"

Emily gave a soft laugh. "Like, everyone knew I was yours. You ordered my drink. You said I listen. You spoke for me."

Grace watched her for a beat, then nodded. "That's because you are mine."

Emily didn't reply.

Grace leaned in, kissed her. Slow at first, but deepened fast - hands in hair, mouth open, hips moving. She pushed Emily gently back against the mattress and pulled off her shirt in one smooth motion. Her hands moved lower, over Emily's ribs, between her thighs. Emily arched toward her without thinking.

Grace slid down, kissing the inside of her thigh, then lower. Her mouth easily found the right rhythm. Emily gasped, her legs trembling. She was getting closer. Close. Almost there.

Then Grace stopped.

Not gradually. Not teasing. Just stopped.

She sat up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Emily stared, panting. "What -?"

Grace tilted her head. "Actually... I've changed my mind."

Emily blinked. "About what?"

Grace's voice was calm, almost conversational. "About making you come tonight. I don't feel like it anymore."

Emily stared, breath catching in her throat. "You - you don't?"

Grace made a faint expression. "Nah, sorry. You know, if you say I am bossy, I might as well live up to the expectations."

Emily didn't quite understand the connection.

Grace sat back, legs apart, and nodded toward her own body. "But if you want to make yourself useful again, get down here."

Not a request.

Emily hesitated. Not because she didn't want to, but because her whole body was buzzing, still waiting, still wound up tight. But she nodded and moved.

Grace's hand caught her hair as she lowered herself.

"Next time," Grace said softly, "think before you editorialize."

Emily's heart kicked. She couldn't quite tell if it was a joke or not.

She pressed her mouth to Grace's pussy, tongue slow and methodical. Grace exhaled - low, satisfied - and settled back.

This time, Emily didn't rush. She licked like she had all the time in the world. Grace moved against her face with the same authority she'd used all evening. Emily closed her eyes and let herself disappear into it.

When it was over, Grace lay back, one hand lazily stroking her own thigh. Emily sat up, flushed, aching, still waiting for the cue that wasn't coming.

Grace reached out, curled a finger under Emily's chin.

"You did well," she murmured. "But you're finished for tonight."

Emily nodded. She didn't say please. She didn't protest.

She just whispered, "Okay."

Later, curled beside Grace, Emily stared at the ceiling, still flushed and half-wired.

She hadn't come. Grace had decided that. And weirdly, she didn't feel angry - just off-balance. This one word - "weird" - kept coming into her mind, like it did pretty much everytime she was with Grace these days.

She was turned on, definitely, but also... unsure. Something about it felt close to wrong. But also kind of perfect. She didn't know what to call that. So she said nothing. And tried not to think too hard.

****

Over the next couple of weeks, something else began to settle. Not the relationship - that one, whatever it was, was undeniable. But the pattern. The way things moved between them. The rhythm of asking, suggesting, deferring. Of one voice landing first, and the other adjusting around it. It wasn't named or formalized. But it kept happening - small things, daily things, one after another.

Grace didn't have a specific checklist or a full master plan. But there were moments - usually quiet, ordinary ones - where she found herself nudging things. A suggestion here, a correction there. Sometimes deliberate. Sometimes just instinct. She'd see an opening - a pause, a glance, a question - and she'd lean into it.

It was in the way Emily stood up when Grace entered a room. It was how she skipped her morning coffee even when she was clearly exhausted, because Grace had once said she liked her "clear-headed, not twitchy." It was how easily Emily internalized Grace choosing for her in restaurants and bars.

It wasn't about romance, or at least not only that. What got to her was being the axis, yes, but also the recipient. The one Emily adjusted for. What to wear. What to eat. When to sleep. When to stop. And sometimes, even more plainly, things done for her. A course prep skipped. An errand run. A plan rearranged, quietly, so Grace wouldn't be alone. It wasn't obedience for its own sake - it was service, even when it came disguised as coincidence. The sense that Emily was shaping herself to fit her needs, her wants. Grace didn't need a label for it. She just liked the feeling.

She told herself it was mutual. That Emily wanted it too - maybe not in words, but in the way she kept showing up. Kept listening. But still, sometimes, Grace saw the flicker of resistance. A pause before complying. A look that said 'I don't like this', just for a second - and that was the moment that landed hardest. Because it meant Emily knew, and still gave in. That was better than consent. That was proof.

Grace didn't need to force anything. Not yet. She just had to keep the current steady - small asks, small cues, the soft gravity of habit. But even as she let it unfold, she could feel it: she wanted more. She wanted the edges too. She noticed how much time Emily spent on her uni work, how she still kept in touch with her flatmates and coursemates, how parts of her day were, from Grace's perspective, still unaccounted for. Grace didn't say anything, for now. But she noted it. Held onto it.

She'd wait.

In the meantime, she adjusted her own rhythm. Stopped saying thank you. That didn't suit the tone. Instead, she offered praise - a hand in Emily's hair, a look, a low voice. "Good." "That's better." She learned the timing: when to be warm, when to withdraw. A colder message. A delayed reply. A remark, half-joking, about how easy Emily was, how eager. And Emily would flinch, laugh, fall in line. Grace played that line on purpose - joke, not joke. It kept things moving. Kept Emily unsure. Which, in the end, was part of the point.

****

grace: you're still typing at this hour?

emily: yes

grace: tragic


grace: sleep. now.

emily: finishing one paragraph


grace: five minutes

grace: if you're still awake at 22:20 i'm revoking textile privileges tomorrow

emily: do you think it's coat weather

grace: that depends

grace: are you asking because you're cold

grace: or because you want me to tell you what to wear

emily:

emily: both, probably

grace: then yes

grace: brown coat

grace: you look functional in it

grace: like someone who knows her place

emily: that's not what i asked

grace: no

grace: but it's what you wanted

grace: break

grace: now

emily: ok

grace: stand up. stretch. touch something that isn't your screen. drink water.

emily: done

grace: see? manageable.

grace: it's almost like i think for you

emily: i didn't make coffee

grace: proud

grace: keep that rhytm. for me.


emily: i know

grace: you're very easy to train. it's a little unsettling

grace: are you with those flatmates again

emily: yes

grace: boring. they don't deserve you

grace: come here after. i want you to

emily: i have reading to do

grace: you can do it here

grace: on the floor, if you're feeling dramatic

emily: i'll be there at six

grace: you were very good today

grace: you sat still, you didn't interrupt


grace: and you looked nice without trying.

grace: i like when you do that


emily: thank you

grace: don't get used to it


grace: i'll be mean again tomorrow

emily: what should i wear tonight

grace: say please

emily:

grace: waiting

emily: please

grace: the long black dress. no tights. hair down.

grace: say thank you

emily: thank you

grace: good girl

grace: photo

emily: [image]

grace: acceptable

grace: i'll allow it

emily: are you upset with me

grace: no

emily: you've just been... distant

grace: and?

emily: it messes with my head when you are

grace: maybe that's the point

emily: i miss you when you go quiet

grace: do you

emily: obviously

grace: even when i'm difficult

emily: especially then

grace: you're very badly wired

emily: maybe

emily: but it's for you

grace: that thing you said in the pub yesterday


grace: it was smart

grace: you said it too fast, but still


grace: i'm keeping it for myself


emily: noted


grace: say you're flattered

emily: i am

grace: good

emily: you looked really good yesterday

emily: i didn't say it at the time

grace: no, you didn't

emily: i was sort of overwhelmed

grace: understandable

emily: you always do that to me

grace: what, dress well?

emily: no

emily: ruin my brain a little just by being in the room

grace: that's not on the official record

emily: i love you

grace:

grace: is that why you're saying all this

emily: maybe

emily: or maybe i just want you to tell me what to do again

grace: you could've led with that

emily: i thought flattery might get me further

grace: you're disgusting

grace: come over and prove it


emily: the kitchen is clean

grace: i noticed


grace: you were very good for me today

grace: i love you so much when you're like that


emily: say that again


grace: no

grace: once is enough

grace: i'll see you at mine in two hours


grace: bring tea. the kind you don't like.

grace: i've decided you're drinking it now

emily: ok

grace: watching you put effort into things that only benefit me is very moving

grace: but also a little scary


grace: who does that

grace: oh right. you do

emily: you're cruel


grace: only a little

grace: enough to make it interesting

grace: i forgot to say

grace: thank you for yesterday

grace: the notes you sent helped more than i expected

emily: really?

grace: yes

grace: they were clear

grace: and kind

grace: i don't usually get both

emily: i'm glad

grace: you didn't have to do it

emily: i wanted to

grace: i know

grace: and that's what makes it stay with me

emily: are you upset with me

grace: no

grace: just a bit bored

emily: bored?

grace: you talked too much yesterday

grace: and then you didn't come this morning

grace: which was inconvenient

grace: i didn't feel like making breakfast myself

emily: i didn't realise

grace: clearly

emily: i'm sorry

grace: i know

grace: you usually are

grace: are you still out with lily

emily: yes

grace: she talks too much


grace: and always about herself


emily: she's been going through stuff


grace: so are you

grace: difference is, you don't bore me with it

grace: come home after


emily: ok

grace: good girl

emily: [image: folded laundry on bed]


grace:


grace: trying to impress me?

emily: maybe

grace: try harder


emily: what do you want to see

grace: you'll know when it's right


grace: you always do

grace: do you really want to go to that conference thing next weekend

emily: yes


grace: hm

emily:


grace: i just think you're more needed here

grace: i'd prefer you didn't


emily:


emily: i won't go

grace: of course you won't

emily: you always look so composed

emily: like you don't need anything


grace: maybe i don't

emily: i think that's what undoes me

emily: being near someone who doesn't need anything

emily: and still wanting to give everything anyway

grace:


grace: dramatic

emily: it's not drama

emily: it's just where i've landed


emily: you say things and i want to make them true

emily: you look at me and i want to deserve it


emily: it's not even about being liked


emily: it's about always being there for you


emily: being the person you think of first

grace:

grace: do you hear yourself

emily: i do

emily: and i'd still say it again

emily: you're not just beautiful

emily: you're the thing i'd kneel for, if you asked


grace:

grace: i won't ask

grace: you're already halfway there

emily: then just say when


grace:

grace: you ruin me a little when you talk like that

grace: come here

grace: quietly

grace: didn't you used to call yourself independent

emily: i am


grace: sure

grace: just not at meal times

grace: or bedtime

grace: or when you're deciding what to wear


grace: but besides that, very autonomous

emily:

grace: i like it this way

grace: you follow instruction so well


grace: makes me wonder how far it goes

emily:


grace: would you ask me before coming

grace: or just wait until i say you can

emily:

emily: i'd wait

emily: do you ever want me to push back

grace: on what


emily: on anything


grace: that depends


emily: on what


grace: whether you mean it


emily: what if I did


grace: then I'd probably let you

grace: once

grace: and then I'd ask nicely again

grace: and you'd do it anyway

emily: you're very sure of that

grace: not sure

grace: practiced

grace: try it if you want


grace: just not with me

grace: i liked watching you yesterday

grace: the way you listened


grace: still, still, like you were wired into my tone

emily: i wanted to do everything right

grace: you did


grace: it was almost obscene

grace: if i told you to kneel right now


grace: even with no one watching

grace: would you

emily: yes

grace: even if it meant nothing

emily: especially then

grace: i've been thinking about you all day

grace: how steady you've been lately


grace: how much you've held together


emily:


grace: i don't say it enough


grace: but i see the way you move around things


grace: how you make space for me

grace: and still keep going

emily: i just want to be good for you

grace: you already are


grace: you don't have to prove it every day


grace: but i know you will anyway


grace: and i love you for that

emily: i stopped scrolling


grace: voluntarily?

emily: thought you'd approve

grace: i do


grace: but it's also a bit pathetic

grace: doing things just in case i notice

grace: you're very strange

emily: i like it when you approve

grace: i know


grace: and that's the strangest part

grace: you looked tired tonight


grace: but you still showed up

grace: still brought the tea, still remembered what i like

grace: i noticed

emily: i just wanted you to have a quiet evening

grace: and you gave me one

grace: so tomorrow


grace: we're doing what you want

grace: no questions

grace: i'll take care of it


grace: you've earned a day with no decisions

grace: i've been thinking about that message you sent last night

emily: which one

grace: the one where you said you'd stay up if i needed to talk

grace: even if you had class early

emily: oh

emily: it wasn't a big deal

grace: it was

grace: i didn't know people meant things like that

grace: not until you

emily:

grace: it hit me harder than i expected

grace: and i didn't know how to answer

emily: it's ok

emily: i just meant it

grace: i know

grace: and that's why it scared me a little

grace: because i might actually need you

****

Over the next days, it got harder for Emily to tell when she was doing something because she wanted to - and when she was doing it because Grace would notice.

It wasn't dramatic. Nothing snapped. But her attention kept shifting. Less energy for class. Less patience with other people. Less of herself, really, outside the orbit. She still did things. Still spoke, still performed, still showed up. But the axis had moved. Grace had become the fixed point. The one she thought about before acting. The one she imagined reacting. Approving. Correcting.

And the strangest part was how much that felt like relief.

It gave things this sense of clarity. And after that last fallout - after Grace had vanished, months ago, without warning, without closure - Emily had promised herself: never again. She'd been a mess back then. Not sleeping. Crying over nothing. Checking her phone all the time.

And when Grace accepted her back, Emily stepped back in without hesitation. Not because she was weak, she told herself. But because this time, she'd do it right. She'd be right.

And maybe that was what started the shift. The trying. The listening. The way she changed the ways she spoke when in Grace's presence, to sound more.... in line. Less annoying. Less herself, maybe, but more manageable. And it worked. Grace noticed. Grace stayed. Grace was even kind, sometimes, in her way - which made it worse, somehow. Because now there was feedback. Reinforcement. Be good, get warmth. Be dedicated, be soft, get praise. Don't ask too many questions.

At first, she just thought it was love. Intense, sure. But love. Real. Grace made her feel seen. Not just pretty or smart, but grasped. Like someone finally got the parts that didn't usually work in daylight. So if she changed a little to keep that gaze on her - what was the harm?

But the change wasn't little. And it wasn't invisible. She saw it when she laughed too softly around Grace, just in case she was being too loud. She saw it in how she turned down invitations with people she liked - because Grace didn't like them. She saw it in her messages.

And she hated it. And she wanted more of it.

That was the paradox. Being with Grace made her feel lesser - in a way that was hard to deny. A little dimmer, a little smaller, a little more bent toward someone else's will. And yet: she also felt more wanted, more held, more chosen than she ever had. It was humiliating, and somehow stabilising. Like her self-worth had been outsourced. But at least now someone was maintaining it.

Sometimes, after saying something particularly submissive - without being asked, without even thinking - she'd go still, like she was afraid of herself. Like, who am I turning into? But then Grace would respond. Would smile. Would say good girl in that low, private tone, and it would hit like a drug. That awful, perfect warmth.

And the cycle would restart.

She didn't talk about it. Not with anyone. It didn't feel like something you could explain without sounding pathetic. "She tells me when to sleep and I like it." "I let her change my plans and it makes me feel wanted." Not very feminist of her. Not very anything of her. Just soft, malleable, and a little embarrassing.

But the worst part - the part she didn't say even to herself - was that it wasn't Grace who made her this way. Not really.

It was her.

Grace had opened the door. But Emily had walked through it on her own. Again and again.

And she didn't know how to walk back - even if she wanted to.

****

They were tangled up on the sofa, half-naked and half-covered by a blanket Grace had tugged down without thinking. Emily's head rested against Grace's thigh, fingers lazily trailing along the curve of her shin. The room was warm, dim. Quiet except for the occasional shift of fabric or the low buzzing of traffic outside.

Emily spoke first.

"So... what is this, actually?"

Grace didn't look down immediately. Just brushed a bit of hair behind her ear and kept her eyes on the ceiling.

"Now?" she said. "You want to do this now?"

Emily didn't move. "It's not a big thing. I just - sometimes I don't know where I stand."

Grace smiled - small, unreadable. "Horizontal, mostly."

Emily laughed, weakly. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

"You're not going to help me out here, are you."

"I might," Grace said, stretching her leg slightly. "Depends what kind of help you're asking for."

Emily was quiet for a beat.

"I guess I want to know if this is... serious. If we're, like-"

"Girlfriend and girlfriend?" Grace said, dry.

Emily flushed. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You kind of did."

Emily sat up a little. Still close, but no longer leaning. "It's just - sometimes it feels like we're already everything. And sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who thinks that."

Grace finally looked at her. Still calm. Still infuriating.

"You're not the only one who thinks that," she said. "You might just be the only one who needs to say it."

Emily bit her lip. "So it's on me, then."

"No," Grace said. "It's just different wiring. You want for things to be clear. I want for things to be moving. That doesn't make either of us wrong."

"You don't think we should define it?"

"I think definitions are for people who need fences."

"And we don't?"

Grace tilted her head. "Do you feel fenced in?"

Emily looked down. "Not fenced. More like... caged. By myself. And by you, a little bit. Sometimes I do something for you and afterwards I'm like- who the fuck am I?"

"But you still do it."

"I know."

Grace leaned closer, voice lower now. "And when you get it right - when I say good girl, or when I touch you softer - how does that feel?"

Emily didn't answer.

Grace smiled. "See."

"That's not the point."

"It kind of is."

Emily shook her head. "Sometimes I think I'd rather just be your girlfriend. Just... equal. Normal. I don't want to feel like I'm always trying to earn you."

Grace went quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "And yet, you do."

Emily flinched.

Grace sat up straighter. "Listen. This - what we're doing - it works because we don't pretend it's symmetrical. You feel better when it's like that. You told me that."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Grace's tone was still gentle, but firmer now. "You show it every time you defer. Every time you wait. Every time you look at me for permission and don't even realise you're doing it."

Emily looked down again.

"You've changed," Grace continued. "You don't spiral like before. You sleep more. You text cleaner. You actually get things done. That wasn't me controlling you. That was you, following some structure."

Emily swallowed. "You're making this sound like I'm broken."

Grace reached for her face, touched her jaw with a thumb. "No. I'm making this sound like you found something that works. And it's not something you need to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed," Emily said, though it sounded like a question.

"Then why the guilt?"

Emily blinked.

"Is it because it doesn't fit your idea of who you thought you'd be?" Grace asked.

"Feminist, self-directed, no-nonsense girl with her shit together?"

Emily said nothing.

Grace let the silence settle. Then:

"I think you like who you are with me more than you want to admit."

There was no challenge in the tone. Just certainty.

Emily exhaled. "Maybe. But it scares me how easy it is to want... less. For myself. And more for you."

Grace smiled faintly. "You're not wanting less. You're choosing where to place yourself."

"And always placing it under you?"

"I don't recall you complaining when I had you under me ten minutes ago."

Emily laughed. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make a joke to dodge the point."

Grace's voice softened again. "I'm not dodging. I'm just showing you it's not binary. It can be love and control. It can be tenderness and hierarchy. These things aren't mutually exclusive."

Emily stared at her. "But do you even see me as an equal?"

Grace looked at her and took a moment to respond. Then: "I see you as someone extraordinary in your ability to care. To notice. To give. And yes - sometimes that means you're not symmetrical to me. But why does that scare you?"

"Grace, obviously it scares me! I don't want to be, like, a side character in my own life."

Grace leaned in, close. "You're not. You're just someone who shines most when you're focused on someone else. That doesn't make you weak. It makes you rare."

Emily looked at her, hurt flickering behind her eyes.

"You don't believe that," Grace added. "Not really. Because if you did, you wouldn't keep coming back."

Emily pulled the blanket tighter around her. "What happens if one day I do want things to be equal?"

Grace didn't answer right away. Then she said, lightly, "You won't."

"That's not fair."

"No," Grace said. "But it's true."

Emily blinked. "And if I did?"

Grace's expression didn't change. "Then you'd have to be willing to lose me again."

The words landed with a dull, unmistakable weight. And then Grace leaned forward, brushed her fingers gently through Emily's hair.

"But I don't think you want that," she said. "I don't think you want the silence. The absence. The way it felt before."

Emily nodded, barely. She remembered. Her hands remembered. Her sleep remembered.

Grace's voice dropped, slower now.

"You keep thinking this has to feel good all the time to be real. That if it stings, something's wrong. But sometimes the point isn't whether you feel good. Sometimes the point is whether I do."

She ran her fingers again, this time down Emily's arm.

"And you're the one who decided that was worth it."

Emily whispered, "Even if I get hurt?"

Grace shrugged, soft. "Isn't it worth it, if it means you get to stay close?"

And then, quieter: "I think you already know your place is here. Not because I say so. But because you keep choosing it."

Emily stayed still. Then: "You talk like I'm giving something up."

Grace shook her head, slow. "You keep circling this thing like it's dangerous. Like I'm the one holding something over you."

She met Emily's eyes now, quieter.

"But you don't see that it works for the both of us. You don't think about what it gives me."

"When you listen. When you wait. When you shift your day just to make space for me - do you know how rare that is? How special?"

Emily's eyes flicked up.

"So when you pull away, or start doubting all of it... it's not just about you."

She touched Emily's collarbone, slow.

"That makes me anxious too."

A pause.

"And I don't think you're the kind of person who wants to hurt me. Are you?"

Emily whispered, "No."

Grace exhaled, then:

"You see? And I don't want to hurt you too. And honestly, you talk like I'm taking something from you. But you don't see how much it costs me, being in charge. You don't see the practical, emotional load that it takes from me."

She looked at Emily - not unkind, but with a quiet weight.

"Do you know what it takes to be the one who decides? To deal with your moods, your attention, your spirals - and still keep the rhythm steady?"

A pause.

"I don't have to do that. I choose to."

Her voice dipped.

"So maybe instead of second-guessing it, you could just say thank you."

She didn't wait for an answer.

"And maybe start focusing on making sure I'm okay. That's the least you could do. Since I'm already carrying both of us."

Emily was quiet for a long time.

Then, softly: "I get it now." Her voice was low, steady. "I've been self-centred. And it's not just about me. You're carrying more than I see."

She turned slightly, head resting against Grace's shoulder. "And I haven't been helping. Not really."

Another breath.

"So... thank you. For doing it. For holding the rhythm. For keeping me in it."

Her fingers curled into the fabric of Grace's shirt.

"I'll be better. I want to be better."

Grace didn't speak for a moment.

Then: "I know."

Her hand moved to Emily's hair, slow, grounding.

"And I've been thinking," she said, voice lower now. "Next month, when the deadlines are done... take a few days off. Come stay with me. Properly. No shared space. No running back and forth. Just mine, for a bit."

Emily blinked. "Really?"

Grace nodded. "You've earned it. And I want you here. Fully."

A pause.

"And maybe I'll cook."

Emily laughed - not because it was funny, but because it felt so impossible. "You don't cook."

"I will. For you." Grace kissed her forehead. "Don't make it a thing."

But it was. 
And Emily felt it in her belly.

****