The two women fell silent, the rhetorical question hanging between them, but Bette knew that the quiet would not last long and that more was coming. For a time though, the space was only filled with the occasional clink of Augustine’s spoon against her teacup and the tiny greedy gulps of Angelica on her bottle. She didn’t need to look up to know that the older woman was watching her, studying her the way she always had, patient, perceptive, waiting for the right moment to speak.

The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. Bette had grown up under Augustine’s knowing gaze, and she knew that whatever came next would be measured, deliberate.

When Augustine finally spoke, her voice was soft but unwavering

“There is something else,” she continued, her voice gentle but pointed. “Something or someone who is testing your balance.”

Bette’s spine stiffened slightly, and she met Augustine’s gaze, knowing exactly what she meant. She exhaled slowly, rubbing Angelica’s back in small, soothing circles as she processed the weight of the older woman’s words.

“If you’re asking about Nyah,” Bette finally said, her voice measured, “there’s nothing going on.”

Augustine tilted her head, watching Bette closely. “And yet, you felt the need to say it.”

Bette sighed, shaking her head. “I know what it might look like, but my heart is here, with Tina and Angelica. Nothing else matters to me the way they do.”

Augustine let the silence stretch between them before offering a slow nod. “Then you must make sure they know that,” she said simply. “Because doubts, when left unattended, grow into distances too wide to cross.”

Bette swallowed, her jaw tightening. She knew Augustine was right. And the last thing she wanted was to lose the one thing that mattered most to her.

***

Tina stirred, reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed, but her fingers met only cool, empty sheets. Bette was already up. That wasn’t unusual, they rarely woke together these days, but the absence still made her pause.

She lay there for a moment, listening. The house was quiet. Too quiet. She didn’t hear Angelica’s soft morning babbling or the shuffle of Bette moving through the room. A faint sense of unease prickled at her as she sat up, running a hand through her hair before pushing back the covers and stepping out of bed.