The atmosphere in the cockpit of the Razor Crest was heavy, and the hum of the ship’s engine was the only sound breaking through the silence. Din Djarin kept his focus on the stars streaking past, but his mind wasn’t in the depths of hyperspace. It was back on the last planet they'd visited, a rocky, desolate place where he’d met you.

He had tried to ignore the pull, the quiet tug in his chest when you’d stepped into his life, but it had been hard. You weren't just another bounty or a passing mission — something about you had stuck. Something different, something real. You weren't like the others. You didn’t ask questions about his past. You didn’t pry into the Mandalorian’s world of secrecy and solitude. Instead, you’d shown him what it meant to feel safe, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Mine,” he had called you once. You thought you had misheard him, but maybe you did not.