Page 110 of The Prime-Time Experiment

There was once a time where she thought safety came from distance, from control. From ensuring she never relied too heavily on variables she couldn’t predict.

Somehow, safety had become this: a hand holding hers without demanding anything from it. A silence that didn’t need filling. Someone whose presence quieted the world instead of complicating it. They kept walking.

The silence between them held shape now, something warm and complete rather than empty. Riley felt herself settle further into it with every step, no longer trying to analyse why it felt so different. She just let it exist.

Then his phone rang. The sound cut through the quiet cleanly enough that she felt the change before it fully happened, the subtle loosening of his hand around hers as he reached instinctively toward his pocket.

And immediately, she noticed the absence.

“Sorry,” he said, glancing at the screen. “It’s mum.”

“That’s okay,” Riley replied.

He answered, turning slightly but not stepping away from her. “Hey, Mum.”

His voice softened, familiar in a different way, and Riley let it sit around her without trying to follow the details. She watched instead, the way his expression shifted, the way his posture changed slightly as he listened.

“… Yeah, I can do that.” He paused to listen down the line. “I’m just at the park with Riles.” He nodded, his brows pulling inwards as if concerned. “Sure, I’ll come now.”

He ended the call and looked back at her, something apologetic settling into his expression. “She needs a hand with something,” he said. “It won’t take long.”

Riley nodded, her hand resting at her side now, her fingers still faintly curved as though they hadn’t quite let go of his.

“I’ll come by after,” he added. “If that’s alright with you?”

“It is,” she said. Then, quieter, more certain, “I would like that.”

Something in his expression softened at that, subtle but unmistakable. Neither of them moved straight away. They stopped walking somewhere in the middle of the conversation without either of them consciously deciding to, the moment settling quietly around them instead.

Riley stepped slightly closer. Not enough to fully close the space between them, just enough to feel the warmth of him again, solid and grounding beneath the lingering ache already building at the thought of leaving.

Then she leaned in the rest of the way and pressed a brief kiss to his cheek.

The contact was soft, fleeting, but intentional enough that she felt the way he stilled beneath it for half a second. “I will see you soon,” she said.

“Yeah,” he replied softly. “You will.”

This time, when he let her go, her body didn’t instinctively brace against the absence. She still felt it, the loss of warmth, of pressure, of him, but it no longer carried the sharpness of something being taken away.

Because she knew it wasn’t permanent, and somehow, that changed everything.

The apartment felt different when she stepped inside. Nothing had actually changed: the same soft lamp light spilling across the living room, the same faint hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen, the same uneven pile of blankets Dee never folded properly. But Riley felt different moving through it, less like someone arriving temporarily inside a space she occupied and more like someone returning.

Dee was curled into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, half-scrolling through her phone, half very obviously waiting. She looked up the second the door opened.

Riley saw the shift in her expression and didn’t need to dissect it to understand it anymore. Concern first, anticipation underneath it, and then hope.

“Well?” Dee asked.

“Well, to summarise the conversation,” Riley stated, “he told me he loves me.” Dee froze, mouth agape in shock. “And, I didn’t leave,” Riley finished speaking, the last few words quieter than the rest, her usual precision softening around the edges into something more exposed. Something real enough that she didn’t seem fully protected from it anymore.

There was exactly one beat of silence. Then Dee practically launched herself off the couch. “Oh my god, Riley,” she burst out, crossing the room so quickly it barely registered before her arms were around her. “You didn’t run. You actually stayed.”

Riley jolted slightly at the impact, her body going rigid for a fraction of a second purely from surprise. Then the tension gave way, dissolving as Dee held onto her.

“I stayed,” she repeated, quieter this time, the words muffled slightly against Dee’s shoulder.

And then, after the smallest pause: “And it didn’t feel wrong.” Her eyes closed briefly. Riley let herself remain there, held, grounded, before the next words slipped out, softer still. “It just felt… right.”