The quiet moments.
The everyday intimacy of just existing together.
"Gunnar?" Her voice is hesitant.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For not giving up on me."
I set down the towel, turn to face her fully.
Her hands are still in the soapy water, but she's looking at me with those green eyes that have always seen too much and not enough.
"I told you," I say. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I know. I just—" She swallows hard. "I needed to say it. Thank you."
I cross to her, turn her away from the sink, and frame her face with my hands.
Kiss her softly.
Not demanding.
Not leading anywhere.
Just... connection.
When I pull back, she's smiling.
Small.
Fragile.
But real.
"Come on," I tell her. "Let's finish this so we can get out of here."
Twenty minutes later, the kitchen's clean, and we're walking down the hallway toward my room.
Ingrid's hand in mine.
That simple contact feels like a victory.
Inside, I close the door behind us, lock it.
Not because I'm expecting anything.
Just because I want privacy.
I want her to feel safe.
She stands in the middle of the room, looking uncertain.
"You can relax, you know," I tell her. "You've been here before."
"That was different."
"How?"
