The fire in the corner of the old barn stuttered, the warmth it offered giving way to the sharp bite of January air. Lance felt the chill creep up from the cold stone floor, but his attention stayed fixed on the group seated in a circle around him. The facilitator’s voice drifted into the background, words of purpose and unmet needs blending with the soft crackle of embers.
Sam sat opposite, and there was something about her presence that drew him in. Her face wasn’t one that commanded a room, but there was a quiet intensity to her kindness. She listened with her whole being – head tilted slightly, eyes steady, the corners of her mouth soft with an almost imperceptible smile. It wasn’t the kind of kindness you’d meet in passing – it was the kind that stayed.
When they were paired, Lance wasn’t sure whether it was coincidence or fate.
‘Sam,’ she said, offering her hand. It was warm, her grip reassuring.
‘Lance,’ he replied, a fraction more hesitant than he’d intended.
The task was deceptively simple: discuss a “significant moment” in their life. Significant. The word itself stirred something in Lance, something he’d spent years pressing down. His instinct was to talk around it, to offer a story that kept him safely on the surface. But Sam’s silence wasn’t demanding. It gave him room to step closer to something he wasn’t sure he could name.
‘I’ve... I’ve never said this out loud before,’ he began, his voice thin. He traced a knot in the wood of his chair, grounding himself as the words came. ‘But there was a point when I didn’t think I’d make it through. I—’ he faltered, the rest hanging in the space between them, unspoken but unmistakable.
Sam didn’t flinch. She didn’t fill the quiet with platitudes or pity. Instead, she nodded, the movement small but grounding.
‘That must have been so hard,’ she said gently. Her tone carried no judgment, only an invitation to let the weight fall, even if just a little.
Lance exhaled shakily. For the first time in years, he felt the air move differently in his lungs. ‘It was. I think... I think part of me still carries it. This feeling that I’ll never be enough. Never have. Never will.’
‘And yet you’re here,’ she said, her voice steady, as though the fact of his presence proved something irrefutable.
For a moment, Lance couldn’t speak. The enormity of what he’d just shared felt both terrifying and oddly freeing. He had no idea why he’d told her, why now. But the warmth of her gaze, the way she didn’t look away, made him feel... seen. Whatever it was, Lance felt lighter. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a start.
‘Thank you,’ he said finally.
‘For what?’ she asked, genuinely curious.
Lance looked at her, confused – not because he didn't understand the question, but because he didn't know how to put into words why he felt so grateful.
And as the fire flickered back to life, its warmth spreading once more through the barn, Lance noticed the cover of Sam’s notebook had, written on the front, ‘Samantha Hope’ and he couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, the universe had smiled.
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