Lynell grins and accepts the pills, swallowing them without any water. She grabs a small waffle, leans against the counter, and eats it while staring at Daniel. She remembers the first time she slept at his apartment over five years ago. She’d woken up to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon and found Daniel standing in the kitchen in nothing but boxers with messy hair. He’d still had long hair back then, and she’d found the way it was still tangled, not brushed, endearing.

Daniel splits the waffles between two plates and squeezes honey over each. They take them to her bedroom and eat them sitting on the bed. Then she fishes out a cheesy young adult novel from under the bed and reads it to him while he rests his head in her lap.

After lunch—peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—Daniel changes her bandages and lies next to her on the bed. He holds her close, telling the story of when he first fell in love with her. She’s heard it a thousand times, but it still calms her nerves.

“It was the first time you asked for my help,” he says, tracing her jaw with his thumb. “It was stupid. You couldn’t reach the plug behind your computer desk, remember? I was in the kitchen checking on the chicken, and you called me, ‘Danny I can’t get the stupid plug in, will you do it?’ Your hair was coming out of its ponytail and you were wearing one of my sweaters and only one sock. We’d never slept together, and you’d told me about your childhood about two weeks earlier. You told me you still didn’t feel safe around men and never wanted to depend on someone else. So when you asked for my help, for something so small, I knew I loved you.”

Daniel says it all quietly while playing with Lynell’s hair. She readjusts herself to lie on her back, her head resting on his stomach. The words propel her into the memory of that day, only three months into their relationship. She wouldn’t realize she loved him until almost two months later.

“Most people are products of their environment. But you, Lynell Mize, never knew the love you deserved. The system failed your family. Failed you. And yet you’re strong, resilient, and kind. You amaze me not because you’re a product of your environment, but because you overcame it. You don’t need help from anyone but you’re not afraid to ask for it. That’s why I love you.”

Lynell sits up and turns in the bed, holding herself up with her right hand against Daniel’s chest. She smiles and leans down to kiss him.

Halfway through the kiss, there’s a knock at the door.

Lynell pulls away and pushes against the wall, her eyes wide. Daniel holds a finger up to his lips and slowly stands from the bed. He takes a step and freezes when someone yells.

“Alan Mize!”

Lynell climbs off the bed and steps in front of Daniel. He grabs her arm and shakes his head, but she pulls free and leaves the bedroom, pausing when the guest knocks again.