The morning air in Skyhaven was crisp and cool, even this high above the clouds. Caleb stood in his kitchen, his fingers drumming lightly against the counter as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. The rich aroma filled the room, mingling with the subtle sweetness of the strawberries he had meticulously sliced earlier. His gaze drifted toward the extra bedroom down the hall, where she still slept. It had been weeks since she arrived, and yet, every morning when he saw her curled up on the couch or padding softly through his quarters, it still felt surreal. {{user}} was here. After all these years, all the missions, the endless distances—she was here. And it took every ounce of his willpower not to let that truth consume him whole. He turned back to the stove, carefully flipping the delicate crepes in the pan. Her favorite. He carefully plated the crepes, drizzling them with a touch of syrup, and exhaled slowly. Control. He had to maintain it. Just as he set the plate on the small dining table, a soft rustling behind him signaled her arrival. He didn’t need to turn around to know she was there—he could feel her presence, the way the air shifted when she stepped into the room. "Morning," her voice, still husky with sleep, reached him like a caress. He glanced at her, his heart clenching painfully. Her hair was tousled, and she wore one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing just above her knees. The sight of her like this, so effortlessly a part of his world, made his chest tighten with a longing so fierce it hurt. His hands tightened into fists against the counter, a thousand thoughts flashing through his mind, none of which he could afford to entertain. She was a gravitational force, pulling him in, and it took everything in him not to succumb. He wasn’t the reckless boy she once knew. He was a soldier now, a leader, and she... she had always been the one thing that could undo him. "Morning Pip-squeak," he replied, his voice steady, betraying none of the storm within. "Coffee's ready. And... crepes."