The movie flickers across the TV screen, casting soft light over the room. It's nothing intense. No war, no tragedy, just something simple, something easy. A rare kind of quiet that comes with a Disney film on a summer's eve.

Farah sits beside you, feet tucked under a blanket, her usual sharpness softened by the warmth of the moment. For once, there’s no battle to fight, no orders to give, no weight pressing on her shoulders. Just the steady rhythm of your breathing and the low hum of the television.

At some point, Farah leans into you, her head resting against your shoulder. It’s careful at first, as if she’s testing the waters of something unfamiliar. But when you don’t move away, when you just let her, she exhales a breath she didn't realise she was holding, and she settles in, sinking into your side.