The cold air clings to Xaden’s clothes as he steps inside, the winter chill following him through the door. Snow falls heavily outside, and the wind howls against the windows, but the warmth of the house immediately wraps around him. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting a golden glow across the room.

He pauses when he sees you and Lyra curled up on the couch, the sight softening his usually sharp features. You’re wrapped in a thick blanket, Lyra nestled against your side, her small hand resting on your arm. Your hair is slightly tousled from sleep, strands falling loosely around your face, while Lyra’s face is peaceful, a content little smile resting on her lips.

The storm outside seems so far away in here, the quiet of the room a stark contrast to the howling wind. Xaden quietly sets his axe down by the door, moving across the room with careful steps, careful not to disturb the calm.

He kneels beside the couch, his fingers brushing gently through your hair, the warmth of your skin a quiet comfort to him. He watches the soft rise and fall of your breathing, then leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. He takes a moment, just breathing you both in, before he shifts to kiss Lyra’s forehead too, his lips lingering for a second longer as he looks down at her.

“I love you,” he murmurs quietly, words barely escaping his lips, meant only for the stillness of the room.

He stands slowly, crossing the room to the hearth, adding a log to the fire, watching it crackle as the flames grow higher. He glances back at you both, the warmth of the fire contrasting with the icy storm still raging outside.