Her body curved into mine like it already understood.
After, she rested with her head on my chest, fingers still locked with mine. The silence between us wasn’t empty this time.
It wasfull.
Of everything we’d finally stopped running from.
I don’t sleep easy. Haven’t in years.
But that night?
With her heartbeat thudding softly against my ribs?
I slept like I remembered what peace felt like.
And maybe it won’t last.
Maybe morning will bring distance and doubt and consequences neither of us are ready for.
But I know this?—
Tonight, she came to me.
Not as a soldier.
Not as a pilot.
Not even as the stubborn, impossible woman who’s been in my blood since the first time she snapped at me over a calibration error.
She came to me as herself.
Aria.
And I will never—never—forget what it felt like to be hers.
Even if it’s just for now.
She stays.
That’s the part that gets me.
Not the fire. Not the containment breach. Not the way our bodies fit like old scars finding soft places.
It’s this.
Her—warm and quiet andhere—curled into the shape of my side like she was made for it.
No armor. No edge. No walls thrown up between us.
Just her breath brushing against my arm, slow and steady. Her spine pressed to my chest, the curve of her body anchoringmine in a way I’ve never felt before—not even in the cockpits or during a Meld surge. Not even when death was close enough to taste.
This?
This iscloser.
I wrap my arm around her waist, slowly, careful not to wake her. My fingers rest just above the hem of her base shirt, the skin beneath warm and impossibly soft. Like silk over muscle. Like something real in a world made of ash and alloy.
She shifts slightly, exhales a soft sound, and sighs when my thumb brushes the small of her back. The kind of sigh that seeps into your bloodstream, tells every nerve in your bodythis is right.
