Selina didn’t expect tonight to feel different. But it did — quietly, unmistakably.
She met Elias at the riverside again, the warm Brisbane evening humming around them. Lanterns glowed softly, the river shimmered, and the air carried that gentle warmth that made everything feel possible.
Elias greeted her with the same soft smile he always had — warm, steady, patient.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
They walked slowly, side by side, letting the evening settle around them. Their hands brushed once, twice, before Elias gently intertwined their fingers. Selina didn’t pull away. She liked the steadiness of his touch — not demanding, not overwhelming, just present.
They found a quiet bench overlooking the water. Elias sat first, giving her space to choose how close she wanted to be. She sat beside him, close enough to feel his warmth but not pressed against him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Elias said, “Can I ask you something real?”
Selina nodded.
“What made you say yes to me?” His voice was gentle, not insecure — just curious, open.
Selina looked at the river, the lights shimmering across its surface. She didn’t want to hide. She didn’t want to shrink. She didn’t want to pretend.
So she told the truth.
“You make things feel calm,” she said. “Not heavy. Not rushed. Not… dangerous.”
Elias’s expression softened, his eyes warm.
“I don’t ever want to be someone who makes you feel unsafe,” he said quietly.
“I know,” Selina replied. “That’s why I said yes.”
He nodded, absorbing her words with care — not trying to fix anything, not trying to pry deeper, just listening.
Selina felt something shift inside her — a soft release, a quiet opening. She wasn’t used to being listened to like this. She wasn’t used to being taken seriously without being questioned. She wasn’t used to being safe.
But she was safe now. With him. With herself. With the life she was building.
Elias squeezed her hand gently. “Whenever you want to talk about anything — anything at all — I’m here.”
Selina didn’t cry. She didn’t panic. She didn’t shut down.
She leaned her head lightly against his shoulder — not collapsing, not clinging, just resting.
And Elias stayed still, steady, warm.
For the first time in years, Selina felt safe enough to be honest. Safe enough to be herself. Safe enough to let someone in.
At home, she cooked something that tasted like honesty.
Something warm, grounding, and steady. Something that didn’t overwhelm. Something that felt like telling the truth and being met with gentleness.
She found chicken thighs, onions, garlic, paprika, and rice.
Perfect.
Tonight she would make Paprika‑Garlic Honest Chicken, a dish she’d invented during a week when she needed grounding but now cooked because she had grounding — real, steady, earned grounding.
As she browned the chicken, she felt her thoughts settle. As the onions softened and the garlic bloomed, she felt her chest loosen. As she plated the dish, she felt honest — fully, quietly honest.
She sat at her table, took a slow bite, and smiled.
She wasn’t just opening. She wasn’t just trusting. She wasn’t just wanting.
She was being honest — and she was safe.
RECIPE — PAPRIKA‑GARLIC HONEST CHICKEN
Warm, grounding, cheap, and perfect for nights when you let yourself be honest.
Ingredients
2 chicken thighs
1 onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic (or garlic powder)
1 tsp paprika
Salt & pepper
2 tbsp oil
1 cup cooked rice
Method
Season chicken with paprika, salt, and pepper.
Heat oil in a pan and brown chicken on both sides.
Add onion and garlic; cook until soft and fragrant.
Reduce heat, cover, and cook until chicken is tender.
Serve over warm rice.
Notes
Costs around $6 for two servings.
Add peas or spinach for colour.
Tastes like steadiness, honesty, and emotional safety.
and then Add to home screen.