Familiar. Comforting. Real.
We stayed like that.
Breathing together.
Silent.
Time stretched.
No words needed.
Thirty minutes passed — or maybe longer.
I didn’t check.
I simply memorized the sensation of his weight against me.
The warmth. The steadiness. Proof that he was still reachable.
Eventually he lifted his head.
Stood without saying anything.
Walked toward the bed.
He lay down on his back. Hands tucked behind his head.
Eyes fixed on the ceiling.
As if staring at invisible stars only he could see.
I cleared my throat softly.
“Yannis...”
He glanced over at me.
“Would you like to go out tomorrow? Just us.”
His expression remained neutral — guarded.
“Somewhere quiet.”
I continued quickly.
“Maybe the beach.”
“Or that small park with the ducks you used to love feeding.”
I remembered how he had laughed chasing birds across the grass.
He watched me carefully.
No immediate response. No excitement. No rejection either.
He simply looked away again — processing.
I understood.
