Rain tapped softly against the window, turning the world outside into blurry lights and shadows. Inside Mike’s room, everything smelled of clean laundry, old books, and warm tea.

Mike lay on his bed with her tucked against his side, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. A movie played on the TV, but neither of them was really watching it.

His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on her sleeve. Slow. Familiar. Like he’d memorized the feeling.

“You know,” he murmured, voice half-asleep, “this is my favorite part of the day.”

He tilted his head, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.

“Just… having you here.”

No urgency. No danger.

Just warmth. Just them.