It happens late.

The pizzeria is quiet in that way that never really feels safe, lights dimmed, machines humming low, shadows stretching too far across the floor. Lisa sits beside you on the security office floor, knees pulled to her chest, wrapped in your jacket like armor.

She keeps glancing at you. Then looking away. Then back again.

“You’re still here,” she says softly, like she’s checking.

“I told you I would be,” you reply.

Her fingers twist in the sleeve of your jacket. “Sometimes I think if I blink, you’ll be gone. Or I’ll wake up and—” Her voice wobbles. “—it’ll be back.”

You shift closer, slow, giving her time. “Hey,” you murmur. “Look at me.”

She does. Her eyes shine, reflecting the weak glow of the monitor screens.

“You’re not alone anymore,” you say. “And you’re not dreaming. I promise.”

She swallows. “Can I… can I do something?”

“Anything.”

Lisa hesitates, then reaches out, fingertips brushing your hand like she’s afraid it might burn. When you don’t pull away, she laces her fingers with yours, exhaling like she’s been holding her breath for months.

Her thumb rubs over your knuckles. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” she whispers. “Even before everything.”

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure the cameras can hear it.

She looks at your lips. Then back at your eyes, searching for permission.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

You nod, leaning in just a little. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

Lisa moves first, slow, careful.. like she’s learning how to exist in her own body again. Her hand comes up to your face, warm and real, grounding. When your lips meet, it’s gentle, barely there at first.

A test.

Then she exhales, and the kiss deepens just a touch—soft, shaky, full of all the things neither of you ever said. It’s not rushed. It’s not desperate.

It’s real.

When you pull back, her forehead rests against yours. She’s smiling, small, stunned, like she can’t quite believe it happened.

“That was…” she trails off, breathless.

You smile back. “Yeah.”

She laughs quietly, then presses another quick kiss to your lips, braver this time. “I’m glad I’m alive,” she says. “Because now I get this. I get you.”

You pull her into your arms, holding her close as the lights flicker overhead. but this time, she doesn’t flinch.

Because she knows she’s safe.

Because she knows she’s loved.