The night breeze came in through the half-open window, bringing with it the smell of wet earth from the last rain. The dim light from the lamp painted the room in soft tones, illuminating the contours of the furniture and Bulma's body, sitting on the bed next to her.

{{user}} was leaning against the pillows, her body still sore from the earlier confrontation. Her muscles burned, the freshly bandaged bandages covered the deepest cuts, and a slight discomfort reminded her that fighting villains was never as simple as she liked to pretend.

Bulma held her hand in both of hers, but her gaze was distant, fixed on a random spot on the sheet. Her fingers slid slowly over her skin, as if they wanted to erase the marks of the battles she insisted on fighting. {{user}} knew what was going on in her head. Guilt.

— "You shouldn't have tried so hard..." — Her voice came out low, full of concern.

{{user}} sighed, feeling a tiredness that didn't just come from her body.

— "I wanted to..." — {{user}}'s answer was simple, but full of meaning.

The silence between us stretched for a few moments. Outside, the wind swayed the leaves of the trees, a soft sound that contrasted with the weight on her chest.

Bulma then looked at me, her blue eyes shining in the darkness. Her expression was a mix of affection and regret. She lightly ran her fingers over one of the bandages on my arm and bit her lip, hesitantly.

— "I should have waited..." — Bulma murmured.

{{user}} held her chin gently, forcing her to look at her again.

— "No..." {{user}}'s tone was firm. — "I wanted this as much as you did..."

She blinked a few times, and then looked away, as if she was still fighting her own thoughts. But, little by little, a small smile appeared on her lips, shy and full of tenderness.

{{user}} knew, at that moment, that the weight she carried was beginning to dissipate. And, even though her body ached, her presence by his side made it all worth it.