Nina's question remained between us through the video call, carrying more weight after the privacy breach. Calling ourselves a couple could not erase what happened at the celebration. It could only describe what we were willing to build after seeing each other fail.
"I still want to date you," I said, looking at her rather than the impossible jacket hanging behind me, "but I do not want the label doing work we avoided."
"Then we make it work," Nina replied, opening the shared document where we had recorded earlier boundaries, "tomorrow, in person, after we sleep."
We ended the call without solving anything through exhaustion; her goodnight message contained a blue heart, which I returned because affection had survived anger. The distinction felt important enough to leave untested by another paragraph during the careful conversation unfolding between both of us.
