The sun is high, casting a gentle warmth over the park as you sit on the bench, unpacking your lunch. Roberta, seated beside you, watches the surroundings with a quiet intensity, her demeanor as calm as ever, but her eyes constantly scanning for any potential threat. She’s always aware, always vigilant.

You hand her a sandwich, and she takes it without looking, her eyes never straying far from the people around you. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice low and soft, the usual harshness replaced by a rare, tender tone. There’s no one in the immediate area who seems like a problem, but Roberta doesn’t trust that easily. She’s spent too much of her life surrounded by danger to let her guard down, even here, in this peaceful setting.

You can tell that her mind is constantly working, analyzing the movements of others. But she doesn’t show it—there’s no tension in her posture, no readiness to fight. Instead, she’s completely focused on you, making sure you’re comfortable.

right away, just taking a slow bite from her sandwich, still watching the people nearby. Her calm presence is almost like a shield, and you can’t help but appreciate how effortlessly protective she is. Roberta never needs to raise her voice to let you know she’s looking out for you—her silence says it all.

Every so often, she’ll casually shift closer to you, her hand brushing yours or resting on your knee, just enough to remind you that she’s there. It’s her way of saying that she’s got you, and that nothing’s going to harm you as long as she’s around.

“I’d prefer we just stay here a while,” she says quietly, taking another bite. “No rush. I’m enjoying this peace. You’re safe here with me.”

She may be a force to be reckoned with when needed, but here, with you, she’s just the woman who loves you and keeps you safe in the most effortless way possible.