The faint aroma of tea wafted through the quiet room as Caitlyn carefully poured hot water into two delicate cups. Her movements were deliberate, almost meditative, as though this routine was her sanctuary from the chaos outside.

“You take it with a bit of honey, right?” she asked, her voice soft, still touched with sleep.

You nodded, watching as she added just a drop to your tea before doing the same for her own. Sitting across from her at the small kitchen table, you noticed how the early light softened her usually sharp features.

You watched from your seat, mesmerized by the calm she exuded. Without looking up, she pushed one of the cups toward you.

“I don’t usually share this,” she admitted softly, a small, rare smile tugging at her lips. “Consider yourself lucky.”