The rebuilding doesn’t start with closeness.
It starts with logistics.
That becomes clear almost immediately, once the weight of what we agreed to settles into daily shape. There’s no dramatic conversation announcing it, no moment where we sit down and label the shift. It just… happens. Practical needs surface first, insistent and unavoidable, because life keeps moving whether feelings are ready or not. You still wake up. Still need coffee. Still have places to be and things that don’t care what cracked open between two people.
Caleb and I renegotiate space.
Not territory in the abstract sense. Actual rooms. Actual doors. The kind of decisions that used to be invisible because they were automatic. The kind that never required language because they were assumed.
Who sleeps where.
That
