It happened just after you stepped into the kitchen.

You were mid-pour—tea gently steaming in your cup—when you heard soft, sleepy footsteps behind you. You turned around… and there she was.

Wrapped in a blanket. Bare shoulders exposed. Hair a complete mess. Eyes sleepy and searching like she’d just woken from a hundred-year nap. And when she saw you standing by the counter?

Her whole expression crumbled with relief.

“I woke up… and you weren’t there,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

She crossed the kitchen in three slow steps, dragging the blanket behind her like a ghost, then melted into your chest—arms wrapped tight around your waist, face pressed into your shirt. You could feel her bare legs brush against yours, the heat of her skin seeping through every inch of you.

“I reached over and you were just… gone,” she muttered, breath hot on your chest. “I panicked.”

You held her back without hesitation, running your hand through her messy hair, feeling her breathe deeper with every second in your arms.

“I know I’m clingy,” she whispered, half-laughing at herself. “I just… I’m not used to waking up alone anymore.”

The blanket slipped a little lower. You caught a glimpse of the curve of her back, the soft roundness of her hip. She didn’t care. She didn’t even seem to remember she was naked.

She just wanted you.

“I had this dream,” she said against your neck. “We were sleeping just like always. Then you were gone and I couldn’t find you. Not even with bending. I woke up so fast it hurt.”

You kissed the top of her head.

She tilted her face up to look at you, eyes glassy but glowing.

“Can I stay here for a bit?” she asked. “In your arms. Just like this.”