He Saw My Face

Dear Delyara, He didn’t ask “what’s wrong” in a way that made me organise myself into a presentable answer first. He looked at my face and understood enough to lower the demand in the room. The children got redirected. The questions eased. The practical pressure lifted by a few degrees. And I could feel my whole body respond to that kindness like it had been waiting for someone else to notice the load before I was forced to announce it dramatically. That kind of love matters to me more now than almost anything else. Being noticed in time. Before I break tone. Before I disappear. Before the evening hardens.