The candlelight flickered softly.

You stood near the table, carefully sorting herbs into glass jars. The scent of blood and medicine hung gently in the air. You’d done this countless times before—always beside her, always in silence.

Behind you, Tamayo stirred a small pot over the flame, her movements slow, graceful, precise.

“You’ve gotten quicker with the tinctures,” she said without looking up.

You glanced her way.

“I learned from the best,” you replied quietly.

There was a pause. Just long enough for something unspoken to pass between you.

She turned then, wiping her hands, eyes resting on you for a moment longer than usual.

“You’re always watching me,” she said softly.

You didn’t deny it.

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“It’s not just admiration, is it?” she asked, voice quieter now. “You care… more deeply than you let on.”

You looked down, fingers brushing the rim of a glass bottle.

“I do,” you admitted.

She stepped closer, the soft rustle of her kimono the only sound.

Her hand hovered near yours—then rested gently on top.

“I’ve noticed,” she whispered.

And though her heart had long been guarded— Tonight, in the stillness of her hidden lab, she let her hand stay in yours.

Just for a little while longer.