Chapter 98: Shared dreams, Separate journeys

Lisa’s POV

The morning sun crept in between the folds of the curtain, filling the room with light like a soft suggestion that you should get up, not an order to get up. I slowly opened my eyes, warm from the heat behind me before I even knew where I was.

Leo’s hand was nestled against my lower back, palm down over the curve of my stomach beneath my shirt just like it was yesterday and last night. His breathing was even and deep, the type that is associated with true rest.

I didn’t budge. Not yet. I let my senses take in that brief moment — the silence, the serenity, the way his body fit so naturally against mine. A month ago, this would have felt strange, maybe even unattainable. Now… it felt like home.

When I moved at last, his arm twitched as if in response to the motion. He uttered a half-articulated sound in his sleep, raising his head. I felt his lips brush my shoulder.

“Morning,” he whispered, voice thick with sleep.

“Morning.” I turned toward him, pushing hair out of my face. He pulled off a loose curl, then tucked it behind my ear with a tenderness that made my heart warm.

“You slept well?” he inquired.

“I did,” I admitted truthfully. “You?”

He smiled lazily. “Best I’ve slept in a long time.”

For a moment we just hung back and stared at each other like we were easing our way back into that particular kind of vulnerability. Then he kissed my forehead softly and sat up, stretching.

“We have a busy day ahead,” he said lightly. “Two busy days, actually.”

I frowned playfully. “Do we?”

“Yes,” he said as he stood up from the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. “Today we begin to construct the shack we dreamed about yesterday. And tomorrow… your presentation.”

Ah. The presentation.

Tingles ran down my spine immediately. I had been preparing for weeks — a chance to make a big impact, to change the trajectory of my career. And he knew how much it meant to me.

He sat beside me again and took my hand. “You’re ready, Lisa. You’ve been ready.”

His quiet, unwavering faith in me lightened something in my chest. I squeezed his hand and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

—-------

Later that morning, I was studying at the dining room table while Leo was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. It was almost comical — the man had been allergic to kitchens for most of our marriage, yet now he was cooking pancakes with the kind of seriousness usually reserved for surgeons.

He pushed a plate toward me. “Eat. You can’t take over the world with an empty stomach.”

I raised a brow. “Take over the world?”

He shrugged. “One step at a time.”

But the way he’d look at me — proud and supportive for real — made the words feel less like a joke or a wish and more like something that he believed with all his heart.

He sat across from me, drinking his coffee. “I’ve been thinking,” he said as he was ready to talk.

“That sounds dangerous,” I joked.

He chuckled softly. “Maybe. But—this time, I mean it in a good way.”

I put my fork down. “Go on.”

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the mug. “I want to start writing again.”

I blinked. “Writing? Leo… I didn’t even know you wrote.”

He paused, then gave a faint smile. “I used to. Years ago. Before business took over everything.”

“What did you write?”

His eyes dropped, almost shy. “Journals. Short pieces. Thoughts. I don’t really know if it counts as writing.”

“Of course it counts,” I said immediately. “Why did you stop?”

He gave a slow shrug. “Because at some point I came to the conclusion that hobbies were a distraction. That I didn’t have the luxury of doing things that didn’t produce tangible results.’”

My heart clenched — not out of sympathy but from the bitter understanding of what it meant to gradually lose bits of yourself.

“And now?” I queried.

His eyes locked with mine. “Now I want them back.”

The honesty of the statement woke up something inside me. We used to frequently discuss the evolution of our relationship, but this… this was simply about him. His aspirations. His passion.

“You should do it,” I said. “Write. Travel. Just get started where you want. And I’ll support you every step.”

His smile was soft, grateful. “Just like you support me,” I added.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Just like that.”

—------

We spent the afternoon in our own bubble, but not apart. I sat at the table, working my way through a stack of notes, practicing arguments. To my surprise, Leo was sitting by the window with a notebook, writing in long, thoughtful strokes.

Not typing. Writing. I loved that. There’s something so grounding about it — real, purposeful.

Looking up occasionally, I would catch him stealing glances at me. He’d smile, I’d smile back, and then we’d both go back to what we were doing. Alone, nearly, but intimately so.

It felt healthy. Balanced. Like we were figuring out how to be individuals and not lose the “us” we were building.

When I finally. Leo snapped his notebook closed and made his way toward me as I set work aside at last, stretching. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous,” I admitted. “But excited. And a little scared.”

“Good,” he said softly. “It means it matters.”

He drew me into a hug, slow and warm. His hands were on my back and I took a breath or two in the comfort of him. He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of my head as he murmured softly, “You’re going to be incredible tomorrow.”

“And you?” I inquired with my head raised. “What’s it like? Writing again?”

He exhaled relieved, almost. “Like waking up. Like I’m remembering something that I didn’t know I forgot.”

I reached out and gently touched his cheek. “Then keep waking up. Don’t give it up again.”

“I won’t,” he whispered. “Not this time.”

—------

That evening, as we nestled in the couch with our knees intertwined, reading different things, our bodies leaned toward each other. Leo occasionally added a note or two in the margins of his notebook, I highlighted bits of an article for work.

We were not mirroring each other. But we were fearlessly supporting each other’s evolution, insecurity free.

We are growing together, without fading away. And to me that’s nothing more exotic than that and perhaps that does point to a dangerous blindness and naivety “but don’t hide from your feelings” this they seem to tell us but I’m afraid they don’t mean it.

And just like that, I felt like I was becoming the most intimate thing in the world. And somehow, that felt like the most intimate thing of all.

By the time we switched the lights off and lay under the covers, Leo was already holding my hand.

“Good night, Lisa,” he said softly.

“Good night, Leo.”

As I was falling asleep, one truth warmed my heart: Love wasn’t just holding on.

Fostering one another to get even more.

Because we’re not supposed to live one life together… Instead, we’re to stride side by side, down different paths .