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I lift a hand—brush a damp strand of hair back from her face.
Slow.
Careful.
Intentional.
Her eyes close for just a second.
And yeah—
That’s it.
That’s all it takes.
I kiss her again.
This time—
Slower.
Deeper.
Less about impulse.
More about—
Choice.
She responds immediately.
Like before.
But different.
Not rushed.
Not desperate.
Just—
There.
Real.
Her hands come up again—
Then stop.
Hover.
Because she remembers.
My injury.
“Careful,” she whispers against my mouth.
I almost smile.
