Valeria had carried too much for too long.

Orders, blood, decisions that never left her hands clean. She survived by never slowing down—until tonight.

The door to the small apartment closed behind her. Warm air, soft light, the smell of food. Too peaceful. Too far from the world she came from.

She slipped off her coat and shoes in silence and followed the light to the kitchen.

You stood there, calm, focused, real.

Valeria stepped close, wrapped her arms around your waist, and rested her forehead against your shoulder. Her grip was firm—but tired.

“…I’m exhausted,” she murmured quietly. “Don’t talk. Just… let me stay like this for a moment.”