The following morning they sat down to eat breakfast quietly. Oatmeal, fruit, coffee cooling slowly between their hands. The quiet they chose now rather than endured, felt deliberate.
Val sat in the chair opposite him, her hair in a loose knot, her movements easy in a way they hadn't been a week ago. She rolled her shoulders once, experimentally, then smiled.
"I think I'm officially better," she said. "Or at least bored enough to pretend I am."
Elliot looked up from his mug. "Better how?"
She considered it. "I don't hurt when I breathe anymore. I can lift my arms without wincing. And if I stay inside much longer, I might start reorganising your cupboards."
His eyes widened slightly. "Please don't."
She laughed, gentle, careful. "See? That didn't even hurt."
He nodded, absorbing this like data. Good signs. Stable indicators. Still, something in his chest stayed tight.
"I want to do something today," she added. "Leave the apartment. Just for a bit."
The tightness sharpened.
He didn't respond straight away. He focused instead on aligning his spoon beside his bowl, the familiar grounding of symmetry. He knew she couldn't live like he did, measured and contained. He had known it from the start. But knowing it didn't make the feeling any easier to manage.
"Okay," he said finally, though it came out quieter than he meant.
She watched him over the rim of her cup. "I'll be fine, Elliot."
"You don't know that."
"Elliot. You just… need to have faith. What are the odds of it happening again?"
He flushed faintly, then let out a long exhale. "I'm worried."
She reached across the table and placed her hand over his gently. "You're allowed to."
She showered after breakfast, the sound of water a steady presence down the hall. Elliot retreated to his desk, trying to work, failing. His attention drifted toward the door again and again, the image of her stepping out of the building looping unhelpfully in his mind.
When she emerged, dressed and pulling on her shoes, she looked different. Not fragile. Not recovering. Just herself.
Noah arrived just then
His laptop under one arm, cheerful as ever. "Morning."
"Morning," Val said. "I'm heading out for a bit. I'll keep my phone on."
The words were casual. Reassuring. Reasonable.
Elliot was on his feet before he realised he'd moved.
"I'll come with you."
The room stilled.
Val paused at the door, surprised, then softened. Noah's eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze flicking between them.
"Where to?" Noah asked.
Elliot looked at Val, waiting. He didn't trust himself to answer.
"I was going to the café," she said. "Just to talk to my boss. I won't be long."
Heat crept up Elliot's neck. Of course she didn't need him. He'd assumed danger where there was none. Again.
"Oh," he said. "Right. Then you should go alone. I'll… see you later."
He stepped back, already chastising himself, already thinking of the apology he would give.
Val crossed the space between them in two steps and squeezed his hand.
"Come with me," she said. Not gently. Not pleading. Certain. "We could go to the park after."
Something in his chest loosened, startled.
"You want me to?" he asked.
"Yes."
He nodded at once, relief and nerves tangling together. He turned to Noah.
"Do you need me for anything?"
Noah shook his head, though his eyes lingered pointedly on their joined hands. "All good. Go."
They left together.
The lift ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Val leaned lightly against the wall. Elliot stood close enough that their shoulders brushed when the lift jolted to a stop. He didn't move away.
Outside, the city greeted them with its usual layered noise. Distant traffic. Footsteps. A bus hissing at the curb. Elliot reached automatically for his headphones, lifting them toward his ears.
Only then did he realise.
He was still holding her hand.
Their fingers were threaded together, natural, unremarked, as if they'd always been that way.
He froze.
Val noticed his hesitation and looked up. Their eyes met.
She smiled.
Elliot started to pull his hand back, embarrassment flaring hot and fast, but she tightened her grip just slightly. Not enough to trap him. Enough to ask.
He stayed.
Something unexpected happened then. The noise around him didn't spike. His breath didn't hitch. His chest didn't seize the way it usually did when the world pressed too close.
He felt… steady.
They walked like that, hand in hand, down the street. Elliot slid his headphones on one ear only, the other left open, tethered to her presence. He matched his pace to hers without thinking.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, surprised by how true it felt.
The café was familiar, but busier than last time they'd been there. She squeezed his hand once more before letting go. "I'll be quick."
He nodded and waited outside, watching through the window as she spoke animatedly, hands moving, face alight. Pride rose in him unexpectedly, warm and protective.
When she returned, she looked lighter.
"All good," she said. "I start back part-time next week."
"That's good," he said. "I'm glad."
"And I ordered dinner, we can come pick it up, or eat here."
He nodded quietly.
They headed toward the park, the autumn leaves skittering along the pavement. This time, when she reached for his hand again, he didn't hesitate.
They sat on a bench, their shoulders touching and watched a child nearby feed crumbs to the pigeons. Elliot tracked the movement absently, cataloguing patterns, finding comfort in the ordinary.
"This is nice," Val said.
"Yes," he agreed.
She tilted her head toward him. "You know you don't have to protect me from everything."
"I know," he said. Then, after a pause, "But I like walking with you."
She smiled at that, warm and unguarded. "Me too."
They sat there a little while longer. When they started walking back, Elliot realised something else.
He wasn't counting the steps back.
He was just walking.
With her.