Chapter Six: Permission Doesn’t Feel Like Freedom

I didn’t expect relief to hurt this much.

When Nia asked me to come over, my first thought wasn’t she knows—it was she’s done. Done with me. Done with excuses. Done with pretending nothing had shifted between us.

I stood outside her door longer than I meant to, fingers curled tight around my phone, heart thudding so loud I swore she’d hear it through the walls.

I knocked anyway.

“Come in,” Nia called.

Her voice sounded normal.

That scared me more than anger ever could.

She was sitting on her bed when I walked in, legs crossed, hands folded neatly in her lap like she’d rehearsed this moment. No tears. No pacing. Just calm.

Too calm.

“Hey,” I said quietly.

“Hey,” she replied. “Sit.”

I did.

The silence stretched until it felt unbearable.

“I talked to my dad,” she said.

My breath caught. “Okay.”

She studied my face like she was committing it to memory. “He told me everything.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she said. “And I believe you.”

That cracked something in my chest.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” I said, voice shaking. “I tried to stop it before it even became anything.”

“I know,” she repeated. “That’s why this is hard.”

I nodded, tears burning behind my eyes. “So… what happens now?”

Nia exhaled slowly, like she was bracing herself.

“I’m going to say something,” she said. “And I need you to really hear me.”

I nodded again.

“I don’t like this,” she said plainly. “I don’t approve of how complicated it is. And I don’t want to hear details, now or ever.”

My chest tightened. “Okay.”

“But,” she continued, voice steady, “I won’t stand in the way of it.”

I froze.

“What?”

She held my gaze. “I’m allowing it.”

The words didn’t land like joy.

They landed like responsibility.

“You… you are?” I whispered.

“Yes,” she said. “Not because it makes sense. Not because it’s easy. But because I know you. And I know my father.”

Emotion surged up so fast it made me dizzy. “Nia—”

“Wait,” she interrupted gently. “I’m not done.”

I closed my mouth.

“This doesn’t mean I’m comfortable,” she said. “It means I trust you not to destroy me in the process.”

My throat closed. “I would never.”

“I know,” she said softly. “That’s why I’m choosing to step back instead of stepping in.”

Tears slipped free then. I didn’t bother wiping them away.

“I hate that I didn’t tell you,” I said. “I hate that I made you find out on your own.”

She nodded. “That part hurt the most.”

“I was scared,” I admitted. “Of losing you. Of losing everything.”

Nia reached out and squeezed my hand. “You almost did.”

“I know.”

She let go and leaned back. “My dad told me he’d end it if I said no.”

My heart dropped. “He said that?”

“Yes,” she said. “And I believed him.”

That somehow made it worse.

“He didn’t pressure you?” I asked.

“No,” Nia replied. “He gave me the choice.”

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. “This feels unreal.”

“It is,” she said. “But it’s happening anyway.”

We sat there for a moment, the weight of it all pressing in.

“So what now?” I asked.

Nia tilted her head. “Now you don’t lie to me.”

“I won’t.”

“And you don’t sneak,” she added. “If this is going to exist, it does so honestly.”

“Yes.”

“And if this hurts either of us,” she finished, “I will shut it down. No hesitation.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

She softened slightly then. “I still love you.”

That broke me.

I leaned forward and hugged her, holding on like I was afraid she’d disappear if I let go.

“I love you too,” I whispered. “More than anything.”

She hugged me back—tight, protective. “Don’t make me regret being brave for you.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

But even as I said it, fear flickered in my chest.

Because permission didn’t erase consequences.

---

Later that night, alone in my room, I stared at my phone.

Marcus’s name sat unread on the screen—three missed calls, one message.

Marcus: Did she talk to you?

I typed back slowly.

Aire: Yes.

A pause.

Then—

Marcus: And?

My heart pounded.

Aire: She’s allowing it.

The response came almost instantly.

Marcus: Are you okay?

I stared at the words.

Was I?

Aire: I don’t know.

Across the city, Marcus sat alone, realizing permission didn’t make this safer.

And somewhere else, Jalen felt the shift before anyone told him—like a door had quietly opened that he was no longer standing in front of.

I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, one truth echoing louder than all the rest:

I was finally allowed to want him.

And that scared me more than being forbidden ever did.