Kids, there are times in your life when everyone says the same sentence:
> "I'm still the same person."
Spoiler: whenever someone says that?
They are absolutely not the same person.
---
New Jobs, New Jungles
Victoria had been gone a week.
We were officially in long-distance mode:
Texts
Late-night calls when the time zones lined up
Me pretending I could pronounce the name of her town in Germany
On paper, we were okay.
In reality?
My heart was sitting in a carry-on bag at some European transfer gate, reading a pastry catalog.
---
I was at MacLaren's, staring at my phone like it owed me rent.
No new messages.
Nox slid into the booth across from me with Bryce, dropping a Nyx Co folder on the table.
"You're doing the thing," he said.
"What thing?" I asked.
"The 'if I look at my phone hard enough, a text will appear' thing," he said. "Classic long-distance delusion. Very vintage."
Bryce swiped a fry from my plate.
"How's Germany?" she asked.
"Cold," I said. "Floury. Beautiful. Lonely. I don't know. I get like… two adjectives a day in her messages before she passes out from oven heat."
"And you?" she said. "How's Brooklyn?"
"Same," I said. "Less flour. More Barney."
As if summoned, Barney appeared at the end of the booth with two beers and a woman's phone number on his hand.
He handed one beer to Nox.
"For you," he said.
"Why?" Nox asked.
"I'm celebrating your terrible influence," Barney said. "Your little pep talk got Marshmallow to join the dark side."
I blinked.
"What?" I asked. "What do you mean, 'join the dark side'?"
"Corporate law, baby," Barney said. "Nicholson, Hewitt & West. He accepted the offer this morning. My little environmental teddy bear took his first step toward becoming a soulless wage monster. I'm so proud."
I sat up.
"He what?" I said.
"He said he was just… trying it," Bryce added gently. "For the money. For now."
Nox winced.
"I told him to follow what he actually wants," he said. "Not sell his soul for towel upgrades."
"Yeah," Barney said, clapping him on the back. "Then you brought him to a gala full of people with monogrammed towels. You weakened his immune system."
I looked toward the door.
"Is he coming here?" I asked.
Barney smirked.
"He's starting tonight," he said. "Said something about 'orientation drinks' with the guys. Which, in corporate speak, means 'get drunk enough to forget who you were in college.'"
I pulled out my phone.
Texted Marshall.
> TED: You really took the job?
MARSHALL: Just trying it. For a bit. We'll talk tonight. Love you dude.
I frowned.
"Lily okay with this?" I asked.
Barney made a so-so motion.
"She's doing that supportive fiancée thing where she says, 'I'm happy if you're happy,'" he said. "But her eyes say, 'If he starts using 'synergy' unironically, I will burn this city down.'"
Bryce leaned her chin on her hand.
"So we have Ted trying not to implode from long-distance," she counted, "Marshall going corporate, Lily quietly panicking, Barney excited for strip clubs, and Nox pretending he didn't cause this."
"Correct," Nox said. "And you?"
She smiled.
"I am here for the drama," she said. "And the fries."
---
That afternoon, Marshall was getting dressed for his first day at Nicholson, Hewitt & West.
He stood in front of the mirror, struggling with his tie, looking like a kid playing grown-up.
Lily watched from the bed, knees drawn up, wearing an oversized T-shirt.
"You look… very professional," she said carefully.
"Too professional?" he asked, fussing with his hair. "Not professional enough?"
"You look handsome," she said. "Like a hot accountant. Or a lawyer in a toothpaste commercial."
He smiled nervously.
"I packed my lunch," he said, holding up a brown paper bag. "In case the firm cafeteria is full of… evil."
She grinned.
"I put a note inside," she admitted. "In case you forget you're not one of them yet."
He kissed her forehead.
"You sure you're okay with this?" he asked softly.
She hesitated.
"I'm… not gonna lie," she said. "My inner punk-rock art teacher wants to burn that pamphlet. But I also know we have debts, and I want you to figure out what you actually want… not what some idealized version of you from sophomore year wanted."
He blinked.
"That sounded… really mature," he said.
"I know," she said. "I hate it."
He laughed.
"I'll go," he said. "I'll see how it feels. If it's awful, I'll quit. If it's not… maybe we can use the money to fund your art classroom of doom."
She smiled.
"Promise me one thing?" she asked.
"Anything," he said.
"Don't turn into someone who thinks throwing paperclips at interns is funny," she said. "Or who calls women 'chicks' in a meeting."
He made a face.
"I would never," he said.
"Good," she said. "Then go. Be you. Not them. Okay?"
"Okay," he said.
He kissed her, grabbed his briefcase, and left.
She watched the door close.
"Please don't come back a gorilla," she whispered.
---
Nicholson, Hewitt & West looked exactly like every corporate law office in your nightmares:
Glass walls
Grey carpet
Art that was technically expensive but emotionally vacant
Marshall stood in the lobby, clutching his portfolio, surrounded by other first-years in dark suits.
A man in his forties with a too-white smile and a haircut that cost more than Marshall's shoes clapped him on the shoulder.
"You must be Eriksen!" he boomed. "Saw your resume. Impressive. Cornell, top marks, blah blah blah… more importantly, do you drink?"
Marshall blinked.
"Uh… yeah?" he said.
"Good," the guy said. "Come meet the gang."
He was marched into a conference room where a handful of associates lounged around a table.
"Guys, this is Marshall," the partner said. "He's joining our team. Treat him like family. And by that I mean: haze him mercilessly, but make sure he doesn't die. HR hates paperwork."
Everyone laughed.
Marshall laughed too.
Because what else do you do in a room full of people who can fire you?
"First order of business," one of the associates said—a guy in a suit with his tie already loosened. "Favorite beer. Go."
Marshall blinked.
"Oh," he said. "Uh… I like craft stuff. Local brews. There's this one microbrew in Minnesota—"
"Wrong," the guy said. "Your favorite beer is free beer."
The room roared with laughter.
"Ha," Marshall said weakly. "Yeah. Free beer's great. Love it. Big fan of… beer."
Another associate leaned forward.
"Second question," she said. "Strip clubs. For or against?"
Marshall's eyes widened.
"I mean…" he stammered. "They can be… exploitative… and… problematic representations of—"
The partner cut in smoothly.
"Marshall," he said. "We win big cases. We work long hours. At the end of the week, we go out and blow off steam. That sometimes includes establishments where breasts are part of the décor. Are you going to clutch your pearls?"
Marshall thought of Lily.
He thought of student loans.
He thought of Nox's "don't sell your soul for towels" speech.
And then he thought of what happens to people who say the wrong thing in a new jungle.
"I… can adjust," he said weakly. "It's… not really my scene, but… I'm open."
The partner grinned.
"That's the spirit," he said. "You'll fit right in among the gorillas."
They all thumped the table and hooted.
Marshall forced a smile.
Inside, something small and important flinched.
---
At MacLaren's that night, we were waiting to see what came back from the jungle.
Lily sat beside me, twisting her engagement ring.
Robin slid in across from us with a drink, shrugging off her coat.
"Any word?" she asked.
"Nothing," Lily said. "No texts. No calls. He said they were going for 'drinks after orientation.'"
"Could just mean they're going to Applebee's," Robin said. "Lawyers love half-price appetizers."
Barney appeared from nowhere, like a smug raccoon.
"He's not at Applebee's," he said. "He's at Lily's worst nightmare."
Lily tensed.
"You know where he is?" she demanded.
Barney smirked.
"Oh, yeah," he said. "Nicholson, Hewitt & West has a tradition. First day of onboarding, they take the newbies to this place on 8th and 34th called—"
"Please say Applebee's," I interrupted.
"Club Gorilla," he finished proudly.
"Oh my God," Lily said.
"That sounds… subtle," Robin said.
"It's a strip club," Barney explained. "With a jungle theme. The dancers swing from actual ropes. There are palm trees. The napkins have bananas on them. It's art."
Lily's eyes were huge.
"He hates strip clubs," she said. "He thinks the patriarchy weaponized the male gaze for capitalist exploitation."
"Sure," Barney said. "But he also likes not being unemployed."
Nox slid in next to Robin, having caught the last part.
"We spying on Marshall's moral decline?" he asked.
"Yes," Lily said. "And possibly planning a rescue mission."
"If he's uncomfortable, he'll bail," I said. "This is Marshall. He still apologizes to cartoon animals for eating meat."
Barney shrugged.
"Give it a week," he said. "You'll barely recognize him. First they give you a company card. Then they give you a nickname. Then one day you wake up and your favorite sound is the phrase 'billable hours.'"
Nox raised an eyebrow.
"You talk like you're not living in that exact ecosystem," he said.
"I'm different," Barney said.
"You're not," Bryce said, arriving with her drink.
We looked at her.
"What?" she said. "He needed to hear it."
Lily's phone buzzed.
She grabbed it.
"Is it him?" I asked.
She read.
Her face fell.
"What?" Robin asked.
"He says he's having 'fun with the guys,'" Lily said slowly. "And he… sent a picture."
She turned her phone around.
Marshall.
At a table.
Surrounded by associates.
Beer in hand.
Grinning.
Behind him, in slightly blurry focus, a woman in a bikini top and heels swung on a rope.
They were all doing that open-mouthed laugh that looks great in commercials and horrifying in real life.
"See?" Barney said. "My little gorilla. He's thriving."
Lily stared at the screen.
"That's not…" she said, voice small. "That's not my Marshall face."
I put an arm around her.
"He's… trying to fit in," I said. "First day. New crowd. We've all done the 'laugh at jokes you hate' thing."
Nox nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "This doesn't automatically mean he's selling his soul. It means he's testing out a mask. The question is whether he likes it too much."
"Do I go down there?" Lily asked, looking between us. "Do I… storm in and scream? Or is that psycho fiancée behavior?"
"Do not storm the strip club," Robin said. "You never want your first impression there to be 'angry redhead with murder eyes.'"
Barney thought about that.
"Unless that's their thing," he added. "Some clubs—"
"Barney," three of us snapped.
He held up his hands.
"Okay, okay," he said. "Look. He's with senior partners. He has to play nice. Doesn't mean he's going to join the Wolf Pack forever. Give him… one night."
Lily deflated.
"I hate this," she whispered.
Nox leaned forward.
"Here's what you do," he said. "You text him once. Something that reminds him who he is. No nagging. No rules. Just… anchor."
She nodded, wiped her eyes, and typed.
> LILY: Hope you're okay. I love you. Remember you're not them. 💚
She hit send.
We waited.
No three dots.
Nothing.
"Maybe he's in the bathroom," Robin said.
"Maybe the signal's bad," Bryce offered.
"Maybe he's on the pole," Barney said.
Nox threw a peanut at him.
---
Meanwhile, at Club Gorilla, Marshall was having… a complicated time.
The place was loud.
Sticky.
Ridiculous.
He sat at a table with the associates, clutching his beer like a flotation device.
A dancer swung past on a rope.
One of the guys hooted.
"Eriksen!" the partner yelled over the music. "You having fun?"
"Yeah!" Marshall shouted back.
He was not having fun.
He was doing a very good impression of someone who might be having fun in a commercial.
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at it under the table.
LILY: Hope you're okay. I love you. Remember you're not them. 💚
He swallowed.
Looked around.
They were them.
Loud.
Crude.
Confident in that terrifying, unexamined way.
An associate nudged him.
"Dude," the guy yelled. "You're zoning out. First day! You have to earn your nickname."
"My… nickname?" Marshall repeated.
The partner grinned.
"Every gorilla gets one," he said. "We already have:
Skipper," he nodded at a baby-faced associate,
"The Tongue," he gestured at a guy already too drunk,
"And Meatball," he slapped a large man on the shoulder.
Meatball raised his beer with pride.
Marshall stared.
"What would mine be?" he asked weakly.
Another associate smirked.
"You're from Minnesota, right?" she said. "And you're, like, gigantic. We should call you… Big Foot."
The group laughed.
The partner shook his head.
"Too cryptid," he said. "We'll find something better. But first—"
He stood, raising his beer.
"To the new blood!" he shouted. "May he bill many hours and forget his dreams!"
They all cheered.
Marshall forced his arm up.
He downed his beer.
As he lowered the glass, his phone buzzed again.
He glanced.
A picture from Barney.
It was just a gorilla emoji and a thumbs-up.
Followed by:
> BARNEY: Welcome to the jungle 🌴💰
Marshall closed his eyes.
For a second, he imagined himself back at the apartment:
Lily on the couch, lesson plans scattered everywhere
Me and Nox arguing over some obscure sci-fi reference
Robin mocking us
Barney being… Barney
For a second, he almost stood up.
Almost said:
> "Hey, thanks for the drink, but this isn't me. I'm gonna go home."
Then one of the senior partners clapped him on the back.
"You're fitting in great, Eriksen," he said. "You'll go far here."
Marshall's stomach twisted.
He stayed seated.
The dancer swung past again.
He laughed when everyone else laughed.
And that?
That was the moment he took his first real step into gorilla territory.
---
Back at MacLaren's, I checked my phone again.
Still nothing from Victoria.
Just time zones.
Schedules.
An ocean.
Robin saw my face.
"You want to bail?" she asked quietly. "Go home. Brood. Call her. Try to sync your emotional watches."
I sighed.
"I don't want to be the guy who goes MIA every time things are hard," I said. "She's asleep. It's 3 a.m. there. Me staring at my phone is not going to change physics."
Robin nodded.
She clinked her glass against mine.
"To physics," she said. "And its total lack of respect for long-distance couples."
"To Marshall not turning into a gorilla," Lily said, raising her drink.
"To Ted not turning into a melodramatic puddle while he waits for emails," Bryce added.
"To me, for remaining a flawless constant," Barney said.
Nox rolled his eyes.
"To the fact that we all know that's a lie," he said.
We drank.
We waited.
We told ourselves everything was fine, because that's what you do when you're one step into the jungle and still close enough to see the edge.
None of us knew yet what was coming:
Marshall's slow, weird transformation
Lily's growing panic
My late-night calls to Germany
The moment long-distance stopped being romantic and started being… hard
But that night?
It was still mostly potential.
Good and bad.
That's the thing about jungles, kids:
You don't turn into a gorilla all at once.
It happens one "yeah, sure, I'll stay for one more round" at a time.
And this?
This was just the first round.
Kids, there's a moment in every long-distance relationship, every new job, every big life shift where you think:
> "Okay… now the weird part starts."
This was that moment.
The next morning, Lily did what any sane, loving, slightly panicked fiancée would do.
She went on the offensive.
---
1. Reconnaissance Mission: Lily vs. The Jungle
She stormed into our apartment, hair still damp from her shower, clutching her purse like a weapon.
"I'm going to his office," she announced.
I looked up from my cereal.
"Good morning?" I tried.
"I'm fine," she said, in the tone of someone who was absolutely not fine. "I just want to see where he works. That's normal. Couples do that. I am not a crazy person."
"That," I said gently, "is exactly what crazy people say."
Nox came out of his room pulling on a hoodie.
"You going to Nicholson, Hewitt & West?" he asked.
"Yes," Lily said, jamming her arms into her coat. "You're coming with me so I don't commit a felony."
He considered.
"Free chaos," he said. "Yeah, I'm in."
I watched them head for the door.
"Hey," I called. "Don't, like… drag him out by his tie in front of his boss."
"No promises," Lily muttered.
---
Nicholson, Hewitt & West's lobby looked even more sterile in daylight.
Lily clutched her visitor badge like it might bite her.
Nox walked up to the front desk with that casual, rich-kid confidence that made receptionists assume he belonged everywhere.
"Hi," he said smoothly. "We're here to see Marshall Eriksen. First-year associate. Tall, looks like a friendly tree."
The receptionist checked a list.
"He's on 17," she said. "You can wait in the lounge."
They took the elevator.
The 17th floor lounge was all grey chairs and bowls of fruit no one wanted to eat.
A large glass wall looked out over cubicles and offices where Very Serious People did Very Serious Things on computers.
Lily pressed a hand to the glass.
"There he is," she whispered.
Marshall, in a suit, hunched at his desk, phone wedged between shoulder and ear, typing furiously.
He did look… different.
Straight-backed. Tense. Less golden retriever, more… overworked horse.
They watched.
He laughed at something someone said nearby.
The laugh sounded… wrong.
Tight.
The partner from last night walked by, clapped him on the shoulder.
Marshall straightened like a kid called on in class.
Lily flinched.
"I hate this," she whispered.
"He doesn't look happy," Nox said quietly. "He just looks… busy."
An associate walked up and dropped a file on his desk.
"Hey, Big Fudge," the guy said. "We need you in on this one."
Marshall smiled, kind of.
"Sure thing," he said. "Happy to help."
"Big Fudge?" Lily repeated.
Nox winced.
"Yeah," he said. "I was afraid of the nickname phase."
She stepped back from the glass.
"Okay," she said. "That's enough. I've seen his natural habitat. Now I steal him."
"Or," Nox said gently, "you take him to lunch and talk like humans. Less 'kidnap,' more 'check-in.'"
They met him at the elevator.
The doors opened.
He jumped.
"Lily? Nox?" he yelped. "What are you guys doing here?"
"We were in the neighborhood," Lily lied.
"This is Midtown," he said. "You're never in the neighborhood."
She crossed her arms.
"I came to take my fiancé to lunch," she said. "Is that allowed, or do I have to schedule an appointment with your gorilla handler?"
He relaxed a little.
"Oh," he said. "Yeah. Yeah, lunch is good. I could use a break."
Nox raised an eyebrow.
"Then let's go somewhere without neckties," he said. "I feel underdressed in my soul."
---
At a diner around the corner, Marshall inhaled a burger like he hadn't eaten in a week.
"This is amazing," he groaned. "The firm cafeteria has… salad. And regret."
"How's it going?" Lily asked, trying to keep her voice light.
"It's… good," he said. "Busy. Intense. My fingers hurt from all the typing. I think I impressed one of the partners yesterday."
"Yeah," Nox said casually, "Barney said you hit Club Gorilla."
Marshall's ears went pink.
"Oh," he said. "That. Yeah. Tradition. It was… weird. But they were watching me. I didn't want to seem like a prude."
Lily's eyes flashed.
"So you were uncomfortable?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Yeah," he admitted. "Honestly? Not my scene. I kept thinking about you being there and wanting to burn it down with your mind."
She huffed out a laugh despite herself.
"You did look… different in that picture," she said. "Not bad. Just… not my Marshmallow."
He looked down at his hands.
"I was trying on the mask," he said quietly. "Seeing if I could… do it. Be one of the guys."
"And?" Nox asked.
He met Lily's eyes.
"I didn't like it," he said. "But I liked them liking me."
There it was.
Honesty.
"Marsh," Lily said gently, "I want you to succeed. I want you to feel… proud. But if you have to turn into someone you don't like to do that—"
"I know," he said. "I do. I'm not… switching teams. I just… want to see what this looks like from the inside. For a little while."
She swallowed.
"How long is 'a little while'?" she asked.
He sighed.
"I don't know yet," he admitted. "Maybe I'll hate it in a month and run screaming back to environmental law. Maybe I'll like parts of it and hate others. Right now I'm just trying not to drown."
Nox spoke up.
"Can I say something grossly mature?" he asked.
"Please," Lily said. "We're fresh out."
He looked at Marshall.
"Make a deal with her," he said. "Time-box this. Six months. A year, max. Tell her you'll re-evaluate, honestly. And in that time, you don't get to pretend everything's fine if it isn't. No gorilla denial."
Marshall thought.
"Like what Ted and Victoria are doing," he said slowly.
"Exactly," Nox said. "Finite experiments. Not open-ended identity swaps."
Lily studied his face.
"If we did that," she said, "could you promise me two things?"
"Anything," he said.
"First," she said, holding up one finger, "no strip clubs. Not as, like, your regular thing. I'm not asking you to boycott the concept forever. I just… don't want that to be your 'Friday night with the boys' ritual."
"Done," he said immediately. "I hated it anyway."
"Second," she continued, "if you ever start referring to me as 'the wife' in a way that makes me sound like a burden instead of a partner, I get to paint your suits neon green."
He laughed.
"Deal," he said. "I'll even buy the paint."
She smiled, eyes a little wet.
"Okay," she said. "Then… six months. You try the jungle. I try not to freak out. We both tell the truth when it sucks."
They shook on it.
Nox watched them, a little smile in his eyes.
"Look at us," he said. "Grown-up agreements all around. I hate it."
---
2. Late-Night Berlin
That night, the apartment was quiet.
Marshall was still at the office.
Lily was lesson-planning.
Nox was coding something on his laptop while some sci-fi show played in the background.
And me?
I sat at the coffee table with my phone and my nerves.
It was almost midnight in New York.
Almost 6 a.m. in Germany.
I'd set an alarm.
Because that's who I was now: a man setting alarms around another person's sunrise.
My phone buzzed.
Victoria:
> You awake?
Me:
> Yeah. You?
Victoria:
> Barely. Bakery o'clock. Want to see something?
Before I could answer, a video call request popped up.
I accepted.
Her face filled the screen—slightly pixelated, hair in a messy bun, no makeup, apron already on.
Behind her, the German bakery kitchen looked like some alternate universe version of "Bonjour":
Different ovens.
Different tiles.
Same flour dust.
"Hey," I said, smiling without meaning to. "Wow. You look…"
"Like I've slept for nine minutes and married a bag of flour," she said.
"Beautiful," I finished.
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
"How's Brooklyn?" she asked.
"Still loud," I said. "Still sarcastic. Still full of Barney."
"Comforting," she said. "How's Marshall? Has he fully gone gorilla yet?"
"Work in progress," I said. "He's trying corporate on. Lily is… trying not to burn down Midtown."
"Ah," she said. "Young love."
I laughed.
"You sound… good," I said. "Tired. But good."
Her face softened.
"I am," she said. "It's… a lot. New recipes. New ovens. They do this thing with bread here that's basically a love language."
"That tracks," I said. "Bread is your soulmate. I'm just the cute side character."
"Please," she said. "You're at least supporting lead."
Her eyes darted away, then back.
"It's weird," she admitted. "I miss you. A lot. And also I'm… excited? To be here. To be doing this. Both things are true."
"Both things can be true," I echoed.
"How are you?" she asked. "No fake 'fine.' Real answer."
I glanced around the apartment.
At Marshall's empty spot.
At Lily's colored pens scattered across the table.
At Nox on the couch, quietly pretending not to listen.
"I'm… okay," I said. "Sometimes I'm really sad. Sometimes I'm really proud of you. Sometimes I'm weirdly… calm. Like we made an actual plan and my brain hasn't caught up enough to panic yet."
She smiled.
"Look at us," she said. "Doing the emotionally literate thing."
"Terrifying," I agreed.
She tilted the camera, showing me a tray of unbaked rolls.
"I wanted you to see this," she said. "My mornings. So when we text, it's not just… words. You can picture where I am."
"I like that," I said. "Hold on."
I flipped my camera.
Showed her:
Our couch
The crooked picture over the TV
The stack of mail on the table
My sad, empty cereal bowl
"This is my morning," I said. "Very glamorous."
She chuckled.
"I miss your couch," she said. "I miss your terrible cereal choices."
"You love my cereal choices," I protested. "You said so once."
"I was lying to make you feel better about being an adult man who buys marshmallows in bulk," she replied.
I laughed.
We sat like that for a minute.
Just… looking.
Listening to the hum of her ovens and the quiet of my apartment.
"This is hard," I said softly.
"I know," she said.
"But I'm glad we're… trying," I added. "Not just letting it fade because it's complicated."
"Me too," she said. "And hey… if we totally crash and burn?"
"Great story for my kids someday," I said.
She smirked.
"Wow," she said. "Lucky them."
A voice called something in German in the background.
She winced.
"That's my cue," she said. "Oven time."
"Go," I said. "Destroy them with carbs."
"Ted?" she added, before hanging up.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Thanks for not… making this about whether I love you enough to stay," she said. "I know Old You might've gone there. New You is… better."
My chest squeezed.
"I'm trying," I said.
"I can tell," she said.
She blew a kiss at the camera.
"Gute Nacht," she said.
"Gute… Morgen?" I guessed.
She laughed.
"Close enough," she said. "Talk soon."
The call ended.
The apartment felt quiet again.
But not… empty.
Just… half full.
---
Nox spoke up from the couch, startling me.
"You did good," he said.
I jumped.
"How long were you—"
"Long enough," he said. "You handled that like an adult human and not a rom-com protagonist. I'm impressed. Deeply disturbed, but impressed."
I dropped onto the couch beside him.
"This sucks," I said.
"I know," he said.
"I miss her," I added.
"Yeah," he said again.
We sat there.
"Was I… supposed to say 'I love you'?" I asked. "Because it was right there. In my throat. Doing the drumroll thing."
"You can," he said. "You don't have to. There's no magical timing that makes it work or not work. Just… don't say it because of the distance. Say it because you can't not."
I thought about that.
"I think…" I said slowly, "I'm already there. But if I say it now, I'm scared it'll sound like a… bid. Like 'love me enough to make this easy.'"
He nodded.
"Then wait," he said. "Let it be a thing you give her, not a contract you slide across the table."
I sighed.
"You're annoyingly good at this," I said.
"I study you," he replied. "You're my favorite cautionary tale."
I threw a cushion at him.
He caught it.
Smiled.
---
3. Back From the Jungle
Marshall came home late.
Tie loosened, shirt wrinkled, dark circles under his eyes.
Lily got up from the couch immediately.
"How was it?" she asked.
He dropped his bag and just… hugged her.
Long.
Tight.
"I hate the coffee," he said into her hair. "I hate the lighting. I hate that my favorite part of the day is when I leave the building and see actual sky."
She pulled back, eyes searching his face.
"And?" she asked.
"And," he said, "I won a motion. I made an argument today and a judge actually nodded and said, 'Counselor, that's compelling.' I felt… powerful. Like I could do something in that room that mattered."
She frowned.
"For who, though?" she asked. "For what?"
He sighed.
"That's the part I'm still figuring out," he admitted. "But I thought about you. And the deal we made. It helped."
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and waved it.
"Tonight, they invited me out again," he said. "Strip club round two. I said no."
"Just like that?" Lily asked, skeptical.
"Just like that," he said. "I said I was tired. That I had to get home. Someone called me whipped. I said 'yep' and left."
She blinked.
"You did?" she asked.
He nodded.
"I'm not them," he said. "I can work there for now without becoming… that."
She smiled, eyes glossy.
"Okay," she said. "Then I can do this. For now. With you."
They kissed.
Nox watched from the hallway, unseen, and smiled a little.
Two experiments running at the same time:
Marshall & Lily vs. Corporate Law
Ted & Victoria vs. The Atlantic Ocean
Both with timers ticking quietly in the background.
---
Kids, here's what I didn't realize then:
Those months?
Those weird, imperfect, messy months?
They were training.
For all of us.
We were learning:
How to love people whose lives were changing
How to stay ourselves when the jungle wanted to dress us up in a suit
How to pick the "right kind of pain," like Nox said
We didn't always get it right.
We messed up.
We compromised badly sometimes.
But on those nights—
Lily waiting for Marshall to come home from the office
Me watching a screen glow with a girl rolling out German bread
Nox and Bryce sitting in the middle of it all, smirking and dispensing weirdly good advice
—those were the nights we started becoming the people we'd need to be later.
The people who could handle bigger heartbreaks, bigger decisions, bigger loves.
But that?
That's a story for another episode.
For now, just remember:
You don't turn into someone new the day you take a job or the day someone gets on a plane.
You change in tiny increments:
one awkward lunch,
one honest text,
one late-night call at a time.
And if you're lucky?
You'll have people around you who remind you, over and over:
> "You're not them. You're you. Stay that way."