It happened on a Sunday.
Not the kind of Sunday where the morning starts slow with gospel humming from the kitchen and coffee steaming in hand. This one had sharp edges. The air in Sky's living room felt too still, like the moment before a storm.
Jade had just finished making a breakfast plate - scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, a biscuit still warm from the oven. She was setting it on the puzzle table when Sky's phone rang from the armrest of her recliner.
The screen lit up with Mama.
Sky hesitated. She almost let it go to voicemail, but Jade had been fussing at her to "stop ignoring people who care about you." So she answered, pressing the phone to her ear.
"Hey, Mama."
Jade only half-listened at first, focused on buttering her own biscuit, but the shift in Sky's tone made her pause. The warmth drained from her voice, replaced by something clipped and formal.
"Yes, that's Jade," Sky said, glancing at her. "She's been helping me while I recover."
A beat of silence. Sky's jaw tightened.
"She's my companion. Yes, companion," Sky repeated, her voice sharpening.
Another pause. This one longer. Jade could hear the faint sound of another voice - fast, urgent, a little too loud.
Sky's shoulders stiffened. "Mama… no. She's not - " Her eyes flicked to Jade again, and this time the look wasn't awkward. It was defensive. Protective.
Whatever was said next came through faint but heavy: "We didn't raise you to live like that."
Sky closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Mama, I'm grown. And if you're calling to judge me, we can end this conversation now."
The voice on the other end kept going, now joined by another - her sister, maybe. Words like wrong, shame, and too young floated into the air.
Jade stood frozen, a knot forming in her chest. She'd been prepared for the age difference to raise eyebrows, but the heat in those voices made her realize this was deeper - rooted in belief, in tradition, in an unspoken rulebook neither of them had written.
Sky's voice stayed steady, but her free hand clenched the armrest. "You don't have to understand, but you will respect me. Jade's been nothing but kind to me. She's helped me through pain you haven't been here to see."
Her mother said something else - something that made Sky's face flush dark.
"Alright, I'm done," Sky said flatly, and ended the call. She set the phone down a little harder than necessary.
Silence hung heavy in the room.
"You okay?" Jade asked finally.
Sky let out a bitter laugh. "Depends on your definition of okay."
Jade didn't push. She sat across from her, voice quiet but sure. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. Not about them. Not about us."
Sky met her eyes, the fight still burning there. "They'll never see this as anything but wrong. My age, your age, the fact you're a woman… it's like I just handed them a list of reasons to cut me off."
"And are you going to let them?" Jade asked.
Sky hesitated. She'd always been the one in her family who smoothed over arguments, who swallowed her own feelings to keep the peace. But looking at Jade now - steady, patient, sitting there like she wasn't going anywhere - she felt something shift.
"No," Sky said, the word coming out stronger than she expected. "No, I'm not."
Jade leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Good. Because I fight for what I want. And I want you to feel joy again - no matter what they think."
Sky stared at her for a long moment, and then, against the weight of the morning, she smiled. "You're stubborn."
"Persistent," Jade corrected.
Later That Day
They tried to settle back into their routine - puzzles and music - but Sky's mind kept replaying the conversation. Every time she fit a puzzle piece into place, it felt like she was trying to make order out of the mess in her head.
At one point, Jade reached over, placing a warm hand over hers. "They'll come around," she said gently.
"You don't know my family," Sky murmured.
"Maybe not. But I know God," Jade said. "And I know He puts the right people in our lives for a reason. Even if the rest of the world doesn't get it."
Sky's throat tightened. She wasn't sure if she was ready to call this - them - anything. But she knew that Jade's presence in her life didn't feel like an accident. It felt like an answered prayer she didn't remember praying.
That night, long after Jade had gone home, Sky sat in her recliner with the "Comfort and Company" playlist humming low. She opened her Bible to Psalm 34 and read: "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."
She closed her eyes and whispered, "Lord, I'm listening. Even if I don't understand all of this, I'm listening."
And somewhere deep inside, she hoped He heard not just her words, but the unspoken plea hiding beneath them: Please… don't let me lose her.