Then, she kissed the other closed eye.
I shivered.
Then, she kissed the bridge of my nose.
And the corner of my mouth.
The trembling in my muscles slowly eased.
The pressure behind my eyes receded—not gone, but manageable now. Contained. The memories that had been clawing at the edges of my mind retreated to the shadows where they belonged.
Not erased.
Never erased.
But held at bay by the warmth of her body against mine. By the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath my ear. By her voice, soft and sure, repeating words I was only beginning to believe.
No more tears came, even though more wanted to fall.
My Tiger had seen enough for now.
Yet. . .she kept soothing me with her words as if trying to lure those tears out.
"I love you."
"I'm here."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You're safe."
"I've got you."
Neither of us spoke after that.
We didn't need to.
Her fingers kept moving through my hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. My breath kept finding the curve of her neck. The moonlight kept shifting across the sheets as minutes bled into each other.
I listened to her heartbeat.
Steady.
Strong.
Alive.
And I let that be enough.
No words. No confessions. No promises I wasn't sure I could keep. Just the weight of her body against mine and the simple miracle of being held by someone who had seen my darkness and chosen to stay.
The ghosts didn't leave.
They never would.
But they quieted.
They retreated to the corners of the room and watched us from the shadows, and for the first time tonight, I didn't feel their hands on my throat.
