Proof In Hand
In my hand, the deed told a story they hadn’t heard. Jenna sat close, parked with a warm cup, letting silence hang comfortably between us.
We didn’t need words; the thick white paper said enough. My fingers curled tighter around the proof, a reminder of what’s real.
We shared a quick look of understanding, knowing too well there was no turning back now. It was just a matter of waiting for the other shoe to drop.