The traffic light ahead turned red, its glow bleeding into the wet pavement like watercolors. I watched as it cycled through its phases - red, green, yellow, red again. Predictable. Safe. Unlike the mess of emotions I’d just spilled across her coffee table.

I shouldn’t have told her Shouldn’t have let her see…

But she had seen. Had listened as I finally voiced the fears I’d been choking on since the courtroom. Had simply held space as I tried to explain how it felt to have my competence questioned, my trust betrayed, my carefully constructed walls penetrated.

“Sometimes,” she had said, “the bravest thing we can do is admit we’re scared.”

I’m not scared I’m…