I used to think I was brave.
I was the girl who volunteered to speak in class, who smiled politely at strangers, who always said the right thing. Graceful, composed. Lady-like.
But tonight, sitting at the dinner table with my parents my chopsticks resting untouched on a bowl of rice I didn't feel brave.
I felt like I was holding something hot in my chest, too scared to set it down.
My mother was mid-sentence, talking about colleges and interviews and reputation again.
"…and I just think it would be better if you stuck to something that doesn't make people raise their eyebrows. Not art. Something respectable."
"Mom."
She glanced up. "Yes?"
I looked at her and then at my father, sitting beside her with his usual unreadable expression. Then down at my hands.
"There's something I need to say."
The silence that followed wasn't cruel. Just… tense. Fragile. Like walking across glass.
"I'm.." I paused, breath catching. "I'm with someone."
My mother blinked. "With someone?"
My voice didn't shake. "A girl."
She went still. My father looked at me sharply. The air turned cold.
"What are you saying, Rose?"
"I'm in love," I said, more certain this time. "With my best friend."
They didn't yell. They didn't say anything for several seconds.
But I felt it.
The shift.
The space between us had widened.
"Is this some kind of phase?" my mother asked carefully.
"No," I said. "It's not."
I didn't cry until I was alone in my room.
But I didn't regret it. Not for one second.
Because even as my chest ached, even as I stared at the ceiling trying to breathe I knew something had changed.
I had said it out loud.
I had said her name Kellie not just in my heart, but to the world.
And there was power in that.
I texted her, fingers shaking.
Rose: I told them.
Kellie: Are you okay?
Rose: Not really.
Kellie: Do you want me to come over?
Rose: Not yet. But I want to hear your voice.
Kellie: Call me. I'm here. Always.
I pressed the phone to my ear and closed my eyes when I heard her voice.
And for the first time in my life, I felt brave.
Because love, real love the kind that burns slow and steady doesn't need the world's approval to be real.
It just needs truth. And time. And someone who will stay.