Elmyra didn't immediately move away. She didn't rush to push Mousan's head from her chest. Instead, she simply remained still—silent and grounded—as if her stillness could anchor him back from wherever he had been. Her arms cradled him, her heartbeat steady, waiting patiently for the storm inside him to settle.
Minutes passed. Then a few more. Slowly, Mousan stirred. He lifted his head and looked into Elmyra's face.
But he didn't just see the woman he loved—the one who had been his first and only love. In that moment, he saw something more.
A sanctuary.
A place to fall apart safely.
He leaned forward and kissed her lips—gently, but with a desperation he couldn't hide. Then, forcing a broken smile that didn't reach his eyes, he whispered:
"Thank you. Sorry for… overreacting."
Elmyra's expression was still a blend of sadness, confusion, and an undercurrent of fear—fear for him. For what he might be becoming. But she placed her hand on his cheek and said softly:
