Because gentleness is something I’ve never known how to survive.
It’s not a battlefield.
It’s surrender.
And right now, I’d lay down every last weapon I’ve got for one more second of this.
“Hey,” I whisper, brushing her damp hair from her cheek. “You still with me?”
Her eyes open slowly, sleepy and soft, lashes blinking like a sunrise cracking over calm water.
“I better be,” she murmurs. “Unless I imagined all that.”
I grin, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “If you did, I’m having the same dream.”
She lets out a breath, quiet but full of something that makes my chest tighten.
“You okay?” I ask.
Kairo looks up at me for a long beat. Then nods, slowly.
“Yeah,” she says. “More than I’ve been in a long time.”
We lie in silence for a while. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just full.
And then I say it—because I need her to hear it.
“I’ll follow you anywhere, Kai.”
She glances up at me.
“I’m serious,” I add. “Scrubbing cafeteria floors. Filing school paperwork. Doing inventory on glitter glue. Whatever life you’re building for Ben—I want in.”
She stares at me, lips parting.
And then—she laughs.
Really laughs.
A sharp, surprised little bark of joy that cracks something open in both of us.
“Glitter glue?” she teases.
I shrug. “I’ve survived worse.”
She snorts and curls tighter against me, her laugh fading into a soft hum against my chest.
A few minutes pass. Maybe more. It’s hard to tell time when everything feels still and perfect.
Then I say, “Can he know?”
Her breath stills.
I don’t push.
But she looks up at me, and I see it in her eyes—she’s already decided.
“Yes,” she whispers. “It’s time.”
