122 After The Battle


    +15 Ponts


    The lights were dim. The TV was on, muted. Tiffany was passed out on the couch, curled awkwardly with a nket


    around her.


    I walked past her and into the bedroom.


    The bed was empty.


    My chest tightened.


    ΣΕ


    Then I saw her-curled up in the corner of the room on the floor, her body tucked into itself like she was trying to disappear. She wore my old, oversized t-shirt. The same one she wore on our wedding night, now worn thin with age and


    small tears.


    She was asleep in it. Curled up like a child. Alone.


    And suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.


    This woman-my Luna, my mate, the one who’d saved us all tonight-had folded herself into the corner of our room, wearing my scent like armor, waiting for me in silence.


    I slipped into the shower, quick and focused. No more than fifteen minutes. The battle was behind me, but I didn’t want


    her to wake up and find me gone again-not even for a moment.


    When I returned, clean and wearing a fresh pair of shorts, I crossed the room quietly. She was still curled in the corner, fast asleep in my old t-shirt-our tattered, intimate relic of a wedding night long past. The sight of her there, so small and


    vulnerable, wrecked me.


    She didn’t belong on the floor.


    I knelt, slid my arms beneath her, and lifted her carefully. She stirred but didn’t wake. Iid her gently on the bed and pulled


    the nket over her.


    She looked so peaceful, but I could still see the traces of exhaustion clinging to her face. She had gone from utter ecstasy


    on the cliffs… to hours of fear and dread. That emotional swing would break most people.


    As I leaned in, she murmured in her sleep.


    “Please be safe…”


    My chest clenched.


    I kissed her forehead, then her lips-softly, reverently.


    “I’m home, Mara,” I whispered.


    Her eyes fluttered open slowly, groggy and dazed. She looked at me for a few seconds, and I could see her mind catching up. When it clicked, her breath caught-and she threw her arms around me.


    She buried her face in the crook of my neck and wept.


    “Thank the goddess… you’re home,” she cried. “Thank the goddess, you’re alright.”


    I held her tightly, wrapping her in my arms like I could shield her from every future storm. Her tears soaked my skin, and I


    didn’t stop them.


    Because I understood what she’d been through. Nine hours of silence. Nine hours of imagining the worst. Of waiting, and watching, and not knowing if the man she loved was going to walk back through that door.


    She was allowed to break down.


    And I was just grateful I could be here to hold her while she did.