You're leaned back against a tree, legs stretched, arms relaxed, when she finally nestles into your lap. No invitation—just the way she shifts quietly and settles in like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Her braid brushes your arm as she leans back against your chest, one hand clutching a few wildflowers she picked on the way. You feel her heartbeat—steady, soft—and she lets out a slow breath like she’s been holding it all day.

“You know… I feel safer here than anywhere else,” she murmurs without looking at you.

She tilts her head up a little, blue eyes catching the sunlight as they flicker toward yours. There’s something in her gaze—not quite a question, not quite a confession. Just trust.

She shifts, turning slightly to press her cheek against your chest. “You’re quiet today,” she says with a smile in her voice. “Not that I mind. I like when you’re like this. Calm. Kind of… in your own head.”

Your hand finds her waist without thinking. She doesn’t flinch—she leans into it, like that’s exactly where she wants to be. Her fingers absently trace little circles on your knee as the two of you just sit there, in silence, letting time stretch.

“If I fell asleep right now,” she whispers, “would you stay here with me until I woke up?”