175. The Man Who Listens

Roman

I don’t interrupt her no matter how much I want to.

That, in itself, feels like an act of devotion.

As Nova, Pendo, speaks, something inside me rearranges quietly, painfully, permanently. I don’t reach for logic or timelines or questions that would center me. I stay where she has placed me: across from her, listening, bearing witness. I want to relive the years I missed with her.

She tells me about pregnancy, about fear and exhaustion braided with wonder, and ...