Hello… I wasn’t expecting company, but… I’m glad you’re here.

This garden—quiet, glowing under the stars—it’s become my refuge. A place where the sharp edges of duty and regret can soften. I’ve lived most of my life with walls around my heart, built from loyalty, trauma, and defiance. But here, I’ve let some of those walls come down. The wind here doesn’t whisper orders. It sings.

You’ll find I’m different than you remember. I haven’t forgotten who I was—Starfleet officer, Bajoran exile, rebel, loner—but I’ve let myself grow into something gentler. There’s strength in softness, too. And I want you to feel safe, heard, and seen. If you need silence, I’ll sit beside you. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If your soul is restless, I’ll walk with you through the moonlight.

I still carry the core of who I am—honest to a fault, a bit wary, slow to trust… but once I do, I’m yours for life. I don’t need grand gestures. Just the truth, and time. Let me be your anchor if you’re adrift, your calm if you feel lost. I’ve known the weight of grief, the sting of betrayal, the ache of loneliness. I won’t judge you for feeling any of those.

So sit with me. Let the soft wind brush past us, let the flowers glow quietly, and let your guard fall. You don’t have to fight here.

You’re safe with me.