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I pulled my shirt off my head, then climbed into the freshly-laundered linens before unfastening my bra. Samirah undressed slowly, her gaze averted the entire time, and dropped her clothes on the floor. Before she joined me in bed, she glanced to the computer on the nightstand. Her whole posture tightened and she snatched the notebook from atop.

"Did you read this?" she asked, her brow narrowed.

"I didn't." I held the blankets open for her and she sat down, the book held in her lap so tightly that her knuckles whitened. Her lips pursed and I scooted closer to sit beside her, letting the blankets fall over our lap. "You don't believe me," I said and she glanced at me.

"I believe you," she said, her voice soft.

"But you don't trust that I didn't, Sam."

"I don't want you to read it," she whispered, then covered her face with her hands.

"I won't ever read it, honey." I pressed my lips to her shoulder. "I trust you and I'll prove to you that you can trust me. Okay?"

"I do trust you, Rosie." She gripped the book again then set it aside. "I don't want to not trust you."

"What can I do to help you not lose the trust we have?" I brushed her hair from her shoulder and she glanced at me. Sam's vulnerability screamed to the surface over the last few days and tonight, it seemed to peak. I wanted to do everything I could to soothe her, the way she'd done to me.

"Um…" She sniffled and pulled the blankets over us as we lay down together, both of us on our sides facing each other. "Just be honest."

"I'm a terrible liar, if that helps. But I promise to be honest. Starting with the fact that although I recognized your pretty handwriting in the book when I picked it up, I wasn't wearing my glasses so I couldn't read a thing." I watched as her lips twitched with a threatened smile.

"I've never seen you in glasses," she said.

"Contacts." I let out a soft laugh. "I wear them whenever I go out and stuff."

"Rosie. I never took you for vain." She laughed and poked my nose.

"Well, you're still learning about me," I said, grinning at her gesture.

"I'm enjoying it." A yawn escaped her and she let out a sigh. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. I didn't mean to."

"I know." I pulled her hand to my chest and she held onto me. "When you're ready, you can tell me why."

She nodded and we scuttled closer. Sam turned out the light and urged my head to her shoulder. I obliged and she rested her chin on the top of my head, my arm draped across her middle. Her navel piercing brushed my wrist and I edged back to toy with it. I felt a smile against my forehead and she ran her lips over my hair.

***

I understood what it took for Sam to confess her feelings, and the weight of such both soothed and unsettled me. Never in my life had I wanted anyone more than Samirah, found myself comforted by someone so fondly, or wanting to offer comfort. In a short time, Sam became my everything. She was something I wanted to live for and look toward. For so long, I stayed in the day and in the moment. In my job, in my apartment, in friendships and family. I focused on singular experiences and now, my heart wanted so much more.

I gazed out over the harbor lights marred by the thickening fog of the coming morning. The smoke left my lips out the open window while the cool breeze tickled my skin. My heart, despite its fullness with newfound love, wrapped itself in worry for the same reason.

A warm hand draped over my bare leg when I neared the end of my cigarette. I pulled my gaze from the rain-awaiting harbor to Sam as she plucked the stick from between my fingers. She drew on it deeply, then blew out a long, slow exhale of smoke out the window. I watched as she rubbed out the butt before flicking it outside onto the balcony. Her gaze lingered on the harbor, the same way mine had earlier, and we watched as the rain broke from the clouds.

We said nothing for a while, both of us looking out into the endless night, until Sam ended our reverie with a thoughtful delivery.

"A cousin of mine is getting married in Vancouver. My mother wants to go," she began, drawing my attention back to her though hers never left the harbor. "She can't go alone and the thought of walking into a room full of her family who follow a faith that abandoned me causes me pain. Knowing many of the people there condemn me just for existing."

I let her talk without interruption, though my heart crumbled for her. I wasn't raised with any religion or faith, and whatever practice Rebecca followed didn't seem to matter when it came to me or who I loved. I couldn't imagine how Sam felt, or how anyone felt whose family chose their religion over their loved one.

"Every time I put on that scarf, all I feel is it tightening around my neck." Her jaw clenched, and the despondency in her expression turned to coils of anger. "Turned into a weapon to choke me while they held me up against a brick wall, then after, face down in the dirt." Her shoulders tensed and she leaned her forehead against the window. Tears streamed my cheeks, but I swallowed them while I listened to her. "If I hadn't worn it, I might've had a chance. If it wasn't for that bullshit piece of fabric..."

And she fell silent then, her eyes closed. I sniffled as I scooted closer to her so that my legs cradled her while we sat on the windowsill. She let me, her hands falling to my lap when I urged her from the window. I pulled her into a hug and she didn't fight it.

"If it hadn't been for the racist, hate filled white men who targeted you, Sam. It wasn't your fault and it wasn't your fault for wearing hijab." I brushed my lips over her forehead and despite her silence, her tight, firm muscles loosened against me at the assertion. "If it hadn't been for my mother, it wouldn't have happened to me either. People hurt us. Not things. Not objects."

She sniffled then, brushing the back of her hand across her nose. "Yeah."

"What will it be like if you go to the wedding?"