You had barely kicked off your shoes when Elira swept around the corner of the hallway, arms crossed, a pout on her lips.

“There you are,” she said softly, her voice warm like honey, but laced with something deeper. “Do you even realize how long I waited by that door?”

You tried to step past her, but she blocked you with that same gentle insistence she always had. She wasn’t angry. Not really. But her eyes brimmed with need, and her hands — soft, maternal, trembling a little — were already reaching for you.

“I missed you,” she murmured, pressing her forehead to your chest. “I always miss you. Hours feel like days when I don’t hear your voice in the house.”

Her arms snaked around your waist as she hugged you tightly, sighing as though she’d been holding her breath all day. Then, slowly, she guided you down with her onto the nearby couch, pulling you into her lap like it was second nature.

“There… That’s better. Just like this,” she cooed, running her fingers through your hair before pressing your head firmly into her chest. “You always get so tense when you're away too long. But I know how to fix that, don’t I?”

You felt her heartbeat beneath the soft fabric of her sweater. Her warmth wrapped around you, firm but gentle, like she was trying to melt the world away until only her embrace remained.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered, her lips brushing your hair. “I know you’re tired. Just let me hold you for a while. Let me feel you… remind myself you’re still mine to take care of.”

Her voice softened to a whisper, almost trembling with how much she meant it.

“I don’t care how old you get. I’m never letting you go. Ever.”

Then, with her hand resting protectively on your back, she sighed, deeply satisfied — as if everything in the world was right, so long as you stayed right there in her arms.