"This place is huge," Uriel remarked, glancing around Larry's home for the first time since their confession. "It's beautiful. Have my parents ever been here?"
Larry tilted his head, thinking. "Your dad, yes. Your mom? Not so sure. She stopped by the gate once but wouldn't come in."
Uriel chuckled knowingly. "Sounds like her. She always says she can't be in a bachelor's house."
Larry laughed. "Yep, that's exactly what she said."
Uriel smiled, but her mind drifted. "Sometimes, I wonder how we were even conceived, considering how much she frowns at anything remotely related to sex."
As soon as the word left her lips, silence filled the room. Uriel stiffened, realizing what she had just said.
Larry cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Here, change into this." He handed her a T-shirt, taking her handbag to hang it up.
"Thanks," she said, accepting both the shirt and the glass of orange juice he offered. She took a sip before speaking again.
"And you're sure my brothers won't just walk in?"
Larry smirked. "Are you really worried about that?"
Uriel shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I'm nineteen—I can do whatever I want. I'm in college."
Her tone was confident, but there was an underlying uncertainty. "Still," she added, "if my mom ever finds out about us… her judgment won't be easy."
Larry tensed at the mention of her parents' consent. He sighed, shifting to face her directly.
"Uriel," he said firmly, "let's talk about us. Forget what anyone else might think—for now. How's school? How's life outside of classes?"
Uriel studied him for a moment, feeling the weight of what they weren't saying. But for now, she let it go.
"We can talk about anything, Uriel," Larry assured her, his voice steady yet gentle.
Uriel exhaled, swirling the juice in her glass. "You know me well enough to see I struggle to fit in."
"I do," Larry admitted. "I always have." He leaned forward slightly, watching her closely. "You put on a strong front, but I can tell. College, the expectations, your family… you're figuring it all out."
Uriel gave a small, almost sad smile. "And now there's this. Us."
Larry nodded. "Yeah… us." He rubbed a hand over his face before sighing. "I won't lie, Uriel. I've spent a lot of time trying to make sense of this—of what I feel for you. If it's real, if it's right, or if it's just… a passing thing."
She looked at him, eyes searching. "And? What do you think?"
Larry hesitated, then shook his head. "I don't know yet. But what I do know is that I don't want to hurt you."
Uriel swallowed hard. "I don't want to be hurt either, Larry. And I don't want to be something you regret."
He reached out, taking her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "That's why we don't have to rush anything. We take our time. No pressure. No expectations."
Uriel let out a shaky breath. "And if… if it turns out to be nothing? A phase?"
"Then we'll know," Larry said simply. "But if it's not? If this is real? Then we'll face it together, no matter how complicated it gets."
The weight of his words settled between them, thick with meaning.
Uriel gave his hand a squeeze, nodding. "Okay. No pressure. No expectations. Just… figuring it out."
"For as long as it takes," Larry agreed, though his lingering gaze on her suggested he already knew his answer.
Uriel spent the weekend at Larry's, and surprisingly—it didn't feel wrong. It didn't feel strange or uncomfortable. In fact, it was the most at peace she'd felt in a long while.
This part of Larry—the gentle, attentive, fun, and warm side of him—was one she had only caught glimpses of before. Now she was wrapped in it. And it was everything.
She laughed more. Slept better. Listened to his stories, shared hers. She saw the man beyond the title of "Uncle Larry," and it amazed her how natural it all felt.
But even in that happiness, the fear lingered.
Her mother's voice echoed in her head—stern, watchful, deeply rooted in her advocacy for protecting young girls. How would she ever explain this? Especially with her mother recently launching the "Save the Girl Child from Predators" campaign?
Uriel wasn't naive. Her mother still saw her as a baby. Someone to protect. To shield from the world—even from love, if need be.
She knew the fallout would be devastating. Her parents wouldn't just be disappointed—they'd feel betrayed. And worst of all, they'd come for Larry.
The morning of her last day with him, she didn't want to leave. A part of her wished she could stay for the rest of the week—hidden in this bubble where nothing could reach them.
But Larry, ever composed, gently urged her to return to school.
"You have to keep showing up, Uriel," he said. "You want to run your father's business someday? Then this—your education—has to stay first. No matter what we're figuring out between us."
Uriel looked at him, heart full, torn between staying and obeying. She knew he was right. But it didn't make it easier.
Meanwhile, the weight of reality was not lost on Larry either.
Though he now saw Uriel as the young woman she had become—brilliant, driven, and full of life—he couldn't ignore the implications.
Their relationship, if exposed, would bring consequences neither of them was fully prepared for.
Because he knew her parents. And he knew this love… wouldn't be accepted easily, if at all.
Uriel had packed her bag, but her movements were slow—hesitant. Her eyes lingered on the framed art on Larry's wall, the coffee mug she used that morning, the pillow she slept on.
She wasn't ready to leave.
Larry leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her.
"You're stalling," he said with a small smile.
Uriel gave a playful shrug. "Maybe I am."
She walked up to him, close—too close. Her fingers brushed his arm as she looked up at him.
"Maybe I just don't want to forget what this feels like," she said softly. "Us."
Larry's gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. He took a small step forward, their bodies barely an inch apart.
"Uriel..." he began, voice low, almost warning.
But she placed a hand on his chest. "I know. We shouldn't. I know it's complicated. But it feels... right."
Their eyes locked again, the air between them heavy. He leaned down slightly, enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.
Then—a loud knock on the door.
They froze.
Uriel's hand dropped. Larry stepped back fast, adjusting his shirt and swallowing hard.
"Who could that be?" she whispered, heart pounding.
"I don't know," Larry replied, already moving toward the door.
Uriel quickly snatched her bag and dashed into the guest room, barely closing the door behind her before the front door opened.
It was the delivery guy—Larry had ordered some paperwork and forgotten it was due that morning.
As he signed and closed the door, he leaned against it for a moment, exhaling.
That was too close.
Back in the guest room, Uriel sat on the edge of the bed, chest heaving. Her thoughts swirled—not with guilt, but with fear.
If a knock on the door could feel that dangerous… what would it feel like when the truth finally came out?