I rest my forehead against his chest and close my eyes. For the first time in months, maybe years, I let myself fall asleep without the blade under my pillow. Just the beat of his heart beneath my cheek.
And in the quiet that follows, I think maybe—just maybe—I’ve found something I wasn’t supposed to have.
Peace. Even if only for tonight.
Later, the light filtering in through Roja’s half-covered window is the kind that doesn’t know what time it wants to be. Pale gray, soft. Like the world’s holding its breath outside while I try to remember what it feels like not to run.
My head’s still on his chest. His heartbeat is steady, slow. The rhythm’s different than mine, deeper, like a drumbeat under a lullaby. I breathe in time with it, just to see if I can. It’s the firsttime in forever I don’t jolt awake with my fingers curled around a weapon.
His arm’s wrapped around my back, hand resting just above my hip. Not possessive—more like he forgot to let go.
I should move. I should pull away before it all gets too heavy. But I don’t. Not this time.
Instead, I lift my chin and look at him.
He’s already watching me. Of course he is. That unreadable face, like stone softened by sea wind. His eyes flicker over mine, down to my mouth, then back.
“Morning,” I say, voice thick with sleep.
“Still early.”
I nod. My fingers find the old scar under his collarbone again, just lightly tracing.
“Did you sleep?” I ask.
His eyes soften a little. “Some.”
“You snore.”
“I don’t.”
I smirk. “You do. Like a bear.”
He grunts, lips twitching.
We fall quiet again, but it’s not tense. It’s just full.
His chest rises under my cheek. “You okay?”
“No.”
He waits.
“But I’m here,” I add. “And I’m not scared. Not right now.”
His hand slides up to my back, thumb brushing bare skin. “Good.”
I want to tell him I feel safe. That I haven’t in so long I forgot what it meant. That maybe I’m afraid of how badly I want this to last. But instead, I just press my palm flat against his chest, feel his heartbeat again.
“Roja,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer, just shifts to meet my eyes.
I don’t say the words. I don’t have to. He sees them. I see the answer in the way he tightens his hold on me, like he’s anchoring us both.
Don’t let me go.
He nods, once. The smallest motion. But it means everything.
