Blame it on me

26

By the time Zia and Austin step back into camp, the golden hush of early afternoon has replaced the crispness of morning. The sun hangs lower now, casting lazy shadows across the clearing. The scent of grilled food and sunscreen still lingers in the warm air, mingling with the faint perfume of pine and river mist. Bright towels, damp and wrinkled, drape over low-hanging branches like streamers from a forgotten celebration. Flip-flops lie abandoned near the firepit, half-buried in dust, and the soft murmur of conversation drifts lazily between tents.

Zia slows at the edge of the clearing, her fingers brushing against Austin’s as the scene unfolds before them. A group is gathered near the trailhead, boots being laced, backpacks shouldered, water bottles clicked shut. The children buzz with anticipation, and a few adults laugh, already calling out about who will reach the waterfall first. The river glints in the background, dappled with sunlight, its ripples stilled from the morning’s chaotic swim.

Her heart gives a soft tug.

She wants to go.

She wants to feel the rush of cold water on her skin again, to laugh without thinking, to hold his hand in front of everyone and feel like they're part of this, not watching from the outside. The ache to be included blooms in her chest, a gentle longing for that easy, unspoken belonging.

But beside her, Austin is still.

His shoulders are tight, the muscle in his jaw twitching. His gaze is fixed not on the people or the trail or the moment but toward their tent, where his laptop waits, the screen undoubtedly lit up with deadlines and blinking reminders he hasn’t silenced. She recognizes that look. The look of a man torn in two between the world in front of him and the one he built behind a screen. A man who has given her the whole morning his words, his hands, his heart but now feels the pull of the other life he’s always carried, the one that built their home, their comforts, their future.

She gets it.

He’s not hesitating because he doesn’t want to be here. He’s hesitating because he’s afraid. Afraid that if he lets go of that part of himself, even for a few hours, it might all come crashing down. That he’ll fail her. That the life of safety and luxury he’s so carefully crafted will slip through his fingers like sand. And maybe, deep down, he’s terrified that if he stops running toward providing, protecting, fixing… she’ll look at him and see less.

But she doesn’t.

She sees all of him the man who breaks himself to build a future he thinks she wants, even when what she truly craves is presence over perfection. She sees his effort, his sacrifice, even when he fumbles the execution. And how could she not love him for that? Even when he gets it wrong, even when it hurts, she can’t help but love the way his heart works. Messy. Complicated. Fiercely loyal.

Still, she places a hand lightly on his arm, grounding him there at the edge of the moment, before he fades back into obligation.

Because maybe this is the moment that counts more.

"You stay and work," she says softly, her hand brushing his. "Shared time...that's all I want. Yiu love your job, I don't want you to have to choose or give it up what you love. I just want some of you too."

She hears it the moment it escapes her lips. Almost on que, his phone chimes from inside the tent, shrill and insistent. "I will work only until dinner time, I promise," he says pulling her in close and kissing her. Zia smiles. She’s choosing this, him, them, even if he hasn’t fully chosen her back yet.

The hike is long and winding, snaking through damp ferns and moss-covered rocks. Sunlight filters through the canopy above, dappling her sisters’ hair in golden patches. Her nieces and nephews chatter like birds, racing ahead, darting back. Zia’s boots crunch softly on the path, and though her legs ache, she feels oddly full. The river song follows them, soft and constant, until they reach a waterfall veiled in mist. The brothers strip down and climb the slippery rocks, leaping off like wild children. The kids squeal, their laughter echoing across the water. They reach the waterfall, veiled in mist and framed by sunlight, the roar of it masking the world. It's beautiful. The brothers are already clambering up the slippery rocks, throwing themselves into the deep pool below with reckless joy. The children scream and cheer. Zia wades near the edge with Jada and Lucy, cool water lapping at her calves, her toes sinking into the sand.