The first time we spoke after church, he asked me a question and then listened—without interrupting, without turning the moment back to himself.
It struck me immediately. Being heard without having to fight for space felt rare.
We took things slowly.
Coffee after church turned into long walks, and those walks became conversations that felt natural instead of forced. There was no pressure to turn it into something more, and somehow that made it feel more real.
Without realizing when it happened, I stopped holding parts of myself back the way I had learned to over the years.
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