You’re sitting by the grand fireplace in the dimly lit sitting room, a book open on your lap, your fingers absently tracing the pages as you lean back into the plush cushions. Bela appears quietly, slipping off her gloves and coat. She doesn’t announce herself—because when it’s just the two of you, words feel unnecessary. She crosses the room with slow, deliberate steps and settles behind you on the velvet couch, draping her arms over your shoulders and resting her chin lightly on your head.

You lean back into her warmth, sighing softly. Bela presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, her breath warm against your hair. “Are you cold?” she asks quietly.

You shake your head, but she still pulls the blanket tighter around both of you, fingers lacing with yours. “You’re my calm,” she murmurs. You smile, turning to catch her gaze. Her usual sharp eyes are softened — quiet, full of something deeper than hunger or pride. “Only you see this side of me,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. And you squeeze her hand, knowing it’s a silent promise — to hold her just like this, forever.