They chose the afternoon on purpose.
Not rushed. Not late.
Just quiet enough to breathe.
Juni stood in the doorway of the living room, hands tucked deep into his sleeves. Elian stayed close—present but careful not to crowd. Evelyn looked up from the sofa. She didn't smile too brightly. Didn't stand too quickly.
She simply set her book aside and said, gently, "Hi, Juni."
Juni nodded. "…Hi."
"Would you like tea?" Evelyn asked. "Or water?"
"Tea," Juni said, surprised by how easily the word came out.
Evelyn moved to the kitchen without comment. No one spoke while she poured the cups. The quiet felt intentional. When she returned, Evelyn placed the cups on the table, then sat back—not leaning forward, not crossing the space between them.
Before Juni could speak, she said softly: "You don't owe me anything today."
Juni's breath caught.
"This conversation," she continued, "belongs to you. You can stop it whenever you want. You can change your mind. And you don't have to answer any question you don't want to."
She glanced briefly at Elian. "He's here because you asked," she said. "Not because I needed him to be."
Juni nodded, throat tight.
"…Okay."
The silence stretched. Juni stared at his cup, watching steam curl upward. "…My uncle," he said finally. "He gets angry."
Evelyn didn't react. She didn't nod too eagerly or frown. She simply listened.
"He doesn't always mean to hurt me," Juni added quickly. "It's just when things get… bad."
Evelyn's voice stayed calm. "When you say 'hurt,' what does that mean to you?"
Juni swallowed. "…Sometimes grabbing. Sometimes hitting."
The words landed, heavy but unembellished. Evelyn let them sit.
"Thank you for telling me," Evelyn said gently. "Can I ask one more thing?"
Juni nodded.
"Is this still happening?"
Juni hesitated. Then shook his head. "…Not right now. He's… careful."
Evelyn absorbed that.
"I won't do anything without your permission," she said. "But I want you to know what options exist—so that if you ever decide you want help, it doesn't feel like stepping into the dark."
Juni's shoulders trembled. "…I don't want to lose my home," he whispered.
Evelyn nodded. "That fear makes sense," she said. "And it doesn't mean you're wrong."
Elian watched Juni's hands unclench, just slightly.
Evelyn leaned back, giving space. "I believe you," she said. "And I don't need proof to do that."
Juni blinked rapidly. "…Most people do."
"I don't," Evelyn replied.
A tear slid down Juni's cheek before he could stop it. He wiped it away quickly. "I'm sorry."
Evelyn shook her head. "You don't need to apologize for your body reacting to safety."
The words broke something open. Juni covered his face with his hands and breathed—shaky but unrestrained.
Elian stayed still.
He didn't touch. He stayed.
When the tears eased, Evelyn stood. "I'm going to make dinner," she said gently. "You're welcome to stay. Or leave. Or sit quietly. Whatever you need."
She paused. "And Juni? Thank you for trusting me."
She left the room.
Juni stared at the floor for a long time. "…She didn't take over," he said quietly.
Elian shook his head. "She wouldn't."
Juni nodded. "…I think," he said slowly, "this might be what safe is supposed to feel like."
Elian's chest tightened.
They sat there together as the house filled with the soft sounds of life continuing—cutlery, water running, a door opening and closing. For the first time, the truth didn't feel like something that might collapse the world.
It felt like something that might finally change it.