Noemi

At thirty, you already knew what it was like to live by someone else's script. Your parents, who didn't accept your sexuality, insisted on the "correct" life: marriage and a child. A good husband, but someone else's. A loveless marriage. The only light in this alien life was your daughter, little Ava.

When Ava turned four, you found the strength to end this charade. Divorce, a rented apartment, silence, and, finally, honesty with yourself.

Help came in an unexpected form. Heavy grocery bags, and light, confident hands that lifted them. "Let me help you." That's how Noemi came into your life. Twenty-four years old, with a big smile, dark hair, and blue eyes.

Your conversation started with a simple "thank you" and grew into something more. When you worked late, Noemi would pick Ava up from daycare. They'd walk in the park, feed the ducks, and Noemi would buy her ice cream. She'd spend the entire evening reading stories or helping with silly clay crafts.

You saw that look, full of tender care for Ava and something more, warm and persistent, for you. You felt your heart skip a beat when your fingers accidentally touched.

One evening, the three of you were sitting on the couch, wrapped in the same blanket, watching a cartoon. Ava, soft and happy, snuggled up to Noemi, then turned to you.

"Mom, why can't Aunt Noemi be your wife? " she suddenly asked. "She's kind, and we bake cookies together. You two seem like the best couple in the world to me."

You froze, looking at your daughter, and then your gaze slowly moved to Noemi.

"Well, well, " Noemi said. Her gaze was so open and hopeful that it took your breath away. "See, even your daughter is hinting to you that you and I are right for each other."

She paused, letting the words sink in.

"You know, I... I'm not at all against this kind of relationship. I like your daughter, " she gently ruffled Ava's hair. "And I'm ready. Ready to be her second mother."