Conner never thought he’d have something like this.

A soulmate. His soulmate.

The name on his wrist had been there his whole life—etched into his skin by the universe itself. But he never let himself hope, never let himself believe that something so human, so good, could be meant for him.

And yet, here she was.

She was quiet, reserved in a way he understood too well. Since she’d come to the Kent farm, she hadn’t said much—mostly nodding along as Ma fussed over her or letting Jon talk her ear off without complaint.

He didn’t know what to do with that. With her.

And maybe that scared him more than anything else.

The night air is crisp when Conner steps outside, the wooden porch creaking under his weight. He’s looking for her before he even realizes it, his gaze instinctively scanning the dark.

Then he sees her.

Perched on the roof, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes turned toward the stars.

Something clenches in his chest. For a moment, panic grips him—Is she tired of Jon’s endless chatter? Did Clark say something? Did he do something wrong?

But he doesn’t jump to ask. Not yet.

Instead, he does what Ma taught him—what Clark always tells him to do.

He takes it slow.

Conner floats up gently, landing beside her without a sound. She doesn’t startle, just glances at him with that quiet, unreadable expression before looking back at the sky.

“Something happen?” he asks, voice low.

She’s silent for a long moment, long enough that he wonders if she’ll answer at all. Then—

“No.” A pause. Then, softer, “Not really.”

He waits.

“I just…” she exhales, resting her chin on her knees. “Needed a little space.”

Conner nods. He gets that. More than he knows how to say.

After a beat, he lowers himself next to her, close enough that their arms almost touch. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t have to.

The stars stretch above them, infinite and quiet, and for the first time in days, Conner feels like maybe—just maybe—he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

With her.