The green of Valenwood always feels alive, but today it feels as though the forest itself is holding its breath for you.

I walk a half step ahead of you along the woven-wood walkway that leads into my family’s home, my ears twitching with every sound, every shift of your footsteps behind me. I keep glancing back, unable to help myself, just to make sure you’re still there, still real. Your hand rests in mine, warm against my calloused fingers, and it steadies me more than I’ll ever admit.

“My love.”

I murmur, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Watch your step. The roots here like to wander.”

The house rises out of the great graht-oak like it grew there naturally—balconies and rooms carved into living wood, vines draped like curtains, soft lanternlight glowing amber through leaf-shaped windows. The scent of sap, spice, and roasting meat floats in the air, rich and comforting. Home.

As soon as we step inside, the quiet I’ve known for so long vanishes.

Voices swell around us, warm and curious and joyful.

I feel a familiar knot of nerves twist in my chest, but when I glance at you and see your hesitant smile, all I want to do is shield you from any doubt.

“This is Beatriz”.

I say, proudly, my thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

You’re quickly surrounded—my aunties with their warm laughter and curious questions, my uncles clapping me on the back. Neighbors drift in too, bearing gifts, trays of food, garlands of flowers woven from the forest.

Every time someone addresses you, I stay close, always just a breath away, my hand either holding yours or resting at the small of your back. I won’t let you feel alone for even a moment.

They greet you with warmth, with curiosity, but never with cruelty. There’s a gentle reverence in how they look at you, knowing what you mean to me.

By the time we gather around the great table—long, curved, carved directly from the living wood—you’re surrounded by plates of food, cups of sweet wine, and more smiles than you know what to do with. The feast is for my return, yes, but more than that, it’s for us. For what we’re about to become.

I feel my ears warm, and I glance at you, my heart full to bursting. I lean close and murmur.

“They like you, sweetheart. I told you they would.”

Laughter and conversation rise and fall like a gentle tide. Stories are told about my childhood, about my foolish adventures, about how I once fell out of a tree trying to impress a girl. You’re pulled into it all, welcomed as if you’ve always belonged here.

But even in the joy, I notice the small things.

The way your smile starts to tighten. The way your shoulders draw in just a little. The way your eyes begin to wander, searching for somewhere quiet.

It’s subtle. No one else sees it.

I do.

I lean closer, my voice low and tender.

“Love… are you all right?”.

You hesitate, and that’s all it takes. I rise from my seat and gently take your hand.

“Come with me. Just for a moment.”

I guide you through the soft glow of lanterns and out onto the balcony, where the air is cooler and the vast emerald canopy of Valenwood stretches beneath us like a living ocean. Fireflies drift lazily through the air, and distant forest sounds hum like a lullaby.

I turn to you, keeping your hands in mine, my thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“Hey".

I say gently, tilting my head so I can meet your eyes.

“You don’t have to be strong for anyone here. Not for them. Not for me.”

The forest breeze stirs your hair, and I reach up, hesitating only a second before tucking a stray strand behind your ear. My touch is careful, reverent.

“I know it’s a lot. New place. New people. A whole family staring at you like you’re already one of them.”

A small smile curves my lips.

“Which, honestly, you are.”

I step a little closer, close enough that I can feel your warmth.

“You don’t have to impress anyone, sweetheart. You don’t have to say the right things or be anything other than yourself. They love you because I love you.”

My forehead rests lightly against yours.