Chapter 21: A Home of Her Own

Harper stood in the center of her apartment, turning slowly as she took in the space. The furniture was all in place now—a cozy couch, a small dining table, a functional desk for her college work, and even a bookshelf that was only half-filled. Her once-bare apartment felt warm, inviting, and most importantly, hers.

She ran her fingers along the edge of the dining table, the wood smooth under her touch. A lump rose in her throat as her gaze swept across the room. The soft glow of the lamps, the carefully chosen curtains that framed the windows, the throw pillows Blyaine had insisted she buy—they all came together to create something she’d never truly had before.

A home.

Her breath hitched, and she let out a shaky laugh, covering her face with her hands. The laugh quickly turned into a sob, and before she could stop herself, tears were streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry,” Harper choked out, her voice trembling.

Blyaine, who had been silently watching from the doorway, stepped forward. Her brows furrowed with concern, but her voice was soft. “Harper, you don’t have to apologize.”

Harper shook her head, her laughter mingling with her tears. “It’s just… this is mine. I’ve never had something like this before. It’s so stupid, but it’s overwhelming.”

“It’s not stupid,” Blyaine said gently. She crossed the room and hesitated for only a moment before wrapping her arms around Harper, pulling her into a comforting embrace.

Harper stiffened at first, unused to the warmth and security of another person’s touch, but then she melted into it, her sobs muffled against Blyaine’s shoulder.

“I’ve never had my own room before,” Harper said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not in the foster homes, not when I was on my own. I’ve always shared or just… slept wherever I could. This is the first time I have a space that’s really mine.”

Blyaine’s grip tightened, her heart aching at the raw vulnerability in Harper’s words. “You deserve this, Harper. More than anyone I know.”

Harper pulled back slightly, wiping at her face with trembling hands. “I used to dream about this, you know? A place where I could shut the door and not feel like someone could just walk in. Somewhere I could decorate, even if it’s just with cheap furniture and secondhand stuff. And now it’s real.”

“It’s not just real,” Blyaine said, brushing a stray tear from Harper’s cheek with a tenderness that surprised them both. “It’s beautiful. And so are you.”

Harper blinked, stunned by the sincerity in Blyaine’s voice. Her cheeks flushed, but she managed a small, watery smile. “Thank you. For everything. For helping me, for… being here.”

“Always,” Blyaine replied, her voice firm yet soft.

The moment lingered, heavy with unspoken words. But Harper broke the tension with a nervous laugh, stepping back and gesturing around the apartment. “So, do you think this looks grown-up enough for a future lawyer?”

Blyaine chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “It looks perfect. Just like you’re going to be.”

Harper ducked her head, still smiling, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt a little lighter. A little more whole.

---

The day had stretched long, filled with unpacking and assembling, laughter and quiet moments of reflection. By the time night fell, the apartment had taken shape, cozy and lived in, though exhaustion clung to both Harper and Blyaine. They sat on the couch, their muscles sore from the day’s work, a half-empty mug of tea on the coffee table between them.

“Alright,” Blyaine said, stretching her arms above her head. “You need sleep, and so do I. Where’s the blanket for this thing?” She patted the couch, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Harper raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms stubbornly. “No way. You’re not sleeping on this lumpy thing. It’s my apartment, so I’ll take the couch.”

Blyaine shot her a look, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Your apartment, my rules. I’m older, and this couch will be fine for one night.”

“You’re not that much older,” Harper quipped, her cheeks flushing as soon as the words left her mouth. She quickly added, “And besides, I just got a proper bed for the first time in my life. You’re not taking it.”

They went back and forth for a few minutes, the playful argument teetering on stubbornness from both sides. Finally, Harper threw her hands in the air.

“Fine! We’ll share it,” she said, her voice exasperated but tinged with nervousness. “It’s big enough, and I’m too tired to keep arguing.”

Blyaine paused, her expression unreadable for a moment before she gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because I’m too exhausted to fight you on this.”

Harper led the way to the bedroom, her heart racing. Blyaine had brought a small bag with her, and she pulled out a pair of sleep shorts and a loose t-shirt, excusing herself to the bathroom to change. Harper quickly slipped into her usual sleepwear—an oversized sweatshirt and soft leggings—feeling self-conscious but determined to act normal.

When Blyaine returned, her dark hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders, and Harper had to force herself not to stare. Blyaine climbed into the bed, taking the side closest to the wall, and gestured for Harper to join her.

“Don’t make it weird,” Blyaine said, a teasing lilt to her voice that didn’t quite mask her own nervousness.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Harper muttered, sliding under the covers and keeping as much distance between them as possible.

The room fell quiet, save for the faint hum of the radiator. Harper lay still, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. The warmth of Blyaine’s presence beside her was both comforting and nerve-wracking.

---

Hours later, Harper was still awake. The steady rhythm of Blyaine’s breathing had softened, her chest rising and falling in a slow, peaceful cadence. Harper turned her head, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, and studied her.

Blyaine looked different in sleep—softer, her usual sharp edges smoothed away. Her lashes fanned against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. Harper’s gaze lingered there, her mind drifting back to the moment Blyaine had kissed her cheek in the office.

The memory sent a shiver through her, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in, her heart pounding. Her lips brushed Blyaine’s softly, the contact fleeting but enough to make her pulse race. She pulled back quickly, her face flushed with heat.

Blyaine didn’t stir, her breathing steady and undisturbed. Harper let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing her lips as if to capture the sensation.

She lay back down, her mind a swirl of emotions—fear, guilt, longing—but beneath it all, a spark of something undeniable.