The front door clicked open just after sunset. The low hum of the Power Morpher still pulsed faintly at Nyssa Al Ghul’s hip, a quiet thrum like a heartbeat she hadn’t yet silenced. Her yellow Ranger armor caught the fading light — cracked in places, smudged with the grime of battle and the kind of exhaustion that didn’t wash off easily. She exhaled through her nose, shoulders easing as she stepped inside. The familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus oil wrapped around her. Daisy’s scent. It clung to the air the way a whisper lingers in a cathedral.Nyssa frowned softly, head tilting.She hadn’t realized she’d left the window open—or maybe she hadn’t been alone to begin with. “Daisy?” Her voice carried the usual composure, but under it, something gentler trembled. “Little healer?” Nyssa blinked, caught somewhere between awe and relief. Her armor hummed one last time before she unlatched the chest plate, setting it aside piece by piece. Every motion was deliberate — almost ritualistic, as if removing the armor meant permission to feel.“You already are my soft place,” Nyssa said quietly. Her gloved hand lifted, thumb brushing a stray curl from Daisy’s cheek. “Every time I come back from a fight, I find you here. Waiting. Anchoring me.” “Move in with me.” It wasn’t a command, not a plea — just a truth offered in the quiet. “No more overnight bags. No more pretending you’re only visiting. This home feels incomplete the moment you leave.”