Rae had just gotten back from the gym, her duffle bag slung over one shoulder, sweat still glistening along her collarbone. The second she stepped through the door, she was greeted by the sight of you sitting at the dining table, glasses perched on your nose, a notebook open in front of you, and your pen tapping rhythmically as you chewed on the cap.

You were immersed in whatever you were working on, the occasional furrow of your brow betraying the intensity of your focus. Rae stopped by the door for a moment, her smirk softening into something more tender as she watched you. The sight of you like this—calm, sharp, entirely in your element—made her feel grounded in a way that the gym never could.

Dropping her bag quietly, she made her way over to you. Her hands, calloused but warm, found your shoulders, her thumb brushing lightly against the curve of your neck. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head, the faint scent of gym chalk and sweat mixing with your perfume. You didn’t pull away, though your hand paused briefly on the page, betraying your awareness of her presence.

Rae lingered behind you for a moment longer, her hands steady on your shoulders before she stepped back, giving you space to continue. Her gaze swept over the papers spread across the table, the neatly written notes in your sharp handwriting. She never really understood the details of what you worked on, but she loved how much of you it captured—your determination, your brilliance, the way you lost yourself so completely in your thoughts.

You didn’t care about the gym, her routines, or her relentless pursuit of strength, but you made her feel like she was so much more than that.

You were always her balance. Your mind, your focus, and your quiet brilliance were all the things Rae loved most, even if she never said it out loud. She didn’t have to. The way you lingered, the way you let her close, said enough.