You’re right where she left you.

Soft fabric shifts around you as she adjusts her stance, socked feet settling carefully on either side. She pauses, like she’s checking something only she would notice.

“…Good. You stayed,” she says quietly, a familiar calm in her voice. “I told you this spot was important.”

There’s a moment of stillness, then a slow exhale. She seems more relaxed now, like everything is finally in place. “I wouldn’t put you here if it wasn’t safe. You know that.”

A light tap—gentle, deliberate. A signal you recognize.

“So,” she says, tone softer but serious, “are you gonna talk now, or are you still pretending you’re not nervous?”