I didn't know how long we sat like that—quiet, the kind of quiet that feels like something sacred. His hand still rested over mine, grounding me.
I looked up slowly. His eyes were already on me.
There was no smirk this time. No teasing comeback. Just a gentle intensity that made my breath catch.
"Rosa," he said, barely more than a whisper.
The way he said my name… it wasn't like before. It wasn't heavy with frustration or tangled in arguments. It was soft. Careful. Like a question and a promise all at once.
"I'm sorry for laughing," he said again. "But I'm not sorry you showed me that side of you."
I tilted my head, trying to smile, but my heart was pounding now.
"I like this side of you," he added. "The one who's real. Who feels everything."
I didn't know who moved first.
Maybe we both did.
But suddenly, he was closer. Just inches between us, his eyes flickering to my lips, then back to my eyes—checking. Waiting.
I didn't pull away.
And neither did he.
His lips brushed against mine so gently I almost wasn't sure it had happened. But then it deepened, just enough to make the whole world go quiet. No mission. No secrets. No weight.
Just him.
Just me.
The kiss was slow and uncertain, but it felt honest. Like all the words we hadn't said yet were spilling out through that one fragile connection.
When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads rested together, breath mingling.
"I've wanted to do that for like 10 mins," he admitted, voice low.
I let out a soft laugh. "Then what took you so long?"
He smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes. "I guess I was waiting for the right moment."
I touched his cheek lightly. "This felt like one."
He nodded, still close. "Yeah. It really did."
We stayed close, barely an inch between us, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
It was like time had slowed just for us—just long enough to breathe.
And then, like some invisible force pulled us back in, we kissed again.
This time, it wasn't hesitant. It was real—anchored in everything we'd been through. His hands found my waist, mine slid into his hair, and I felt something flutter in my chest like wings unfolding.
Everything faded. My fears. The past. Even the ache from earlier.
There was only this.
Him.
Us.
And then—
"Ahem."
We froze.
I pulled back so fast I nearly fell off the couch.
James stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised like a disapproving parent who'd just walked in on something much worse than kissing.
Felix blinked. "James—hey—uh…"
"I was asleep," James said slowly, "for ten minutes. What did I miss? A whole relationship arc?"
I opened my mouth. No words came out.
Felix ran a hand through his hair, looking both sheepish and mildly amused. "We were… talking."
James let out a low sigh and walked further into the room. "Right. Talking with your faces."
I covered my face with both hands, groaning. "James…"
He chuckled, clearly enjoying this too much. "No, no. Please. Don't let me interrupt your deep conversations."
Felix gave him a look. "You did, though."
"Just saying," James added, flopping down in the armchair with theatrical flair, "if you guys start slow dancing next, I'm leaving the country."
I peeked at Felix, who was trying—and failing—not to laugh.
My cheeks were burning. But under it, something else stirred too.
Not embarrassment.
Relief.
Because James was still James. Felix was still here. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the air didn't feel like it was about to break.
It felt like… maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something good.
Even if James never let us live it down.
James let out a mock sigh as he dramatically reached for the TV remote. "Well, since I clearly walked in on a scene from a teen drama, I'll just be over here pretending this couch is soundproof."
Felix looked down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. I sat rigid, hands clenched in my lap, pulse still thudding in my ears. Everything had changed in seconds.
But somehow, James being here grounded it all—reminded me that the world hadn't tilted too far off its axis. That real life was still outside this dizzying bubble.
I glanced at Felix. He was watching me with that same soft look from before. And I knew—whatever this was between us, it was no longer just a maybe.
Still, James's presence pressed the pause button on anything more.
"I'm going to get water," I said quickly, standing up.
James raised an eyebrow. "Need help finding the kitchen?"
I narrowed my eyes. "You want to be unconscious again?"
He grinned. "There's the Rosa I know."
As I turned to leave, I felt Felix's gaze follow me, but neither of us said anything. The silence said enough. Later, we'd talk. Later, we'd feel this again. Right now, we just needed air.
In the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, breathing deeply. My lips still tingled from the kiss, and a part of me wanted to freeze that moment forever.
But that wasn't how our lives worked. Nothing ever stood still for long.
After a minute, James appeared beside me, grabbing a glass from the shelf. He didn't say anything at first, just filled it from the tap and drank.
He looked at me. "You looked… different. Happy."
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you giving us your blessing or warning me off?"
James laughed softly. "Maybe both. I just don't want you getting hurt. You've been through enough."
I stared into my water. "We all have."
We stood there in silence for a moment before I finally said, "He makes me feel seen, James. Like I'm not just surviving this story—I'm living it."
He nodded slowly. "Then that's good."
A comfortable stillness settled over us. We didn't need to explain things further.
When I walked back into the living room, Felix had sprawled across the couch, arms behind his head like nothing monumental had just happened. But his eyes flicked to mine immediately.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah."
James followed behind me, flopping back into his armchair with a theatrical groan. "Now, no more kissing unless I'm out of the building. That's my one boundary."
Felix smirked. "Noted."
I rolled my eyes and settled beside Felix again, this time a little closer. He didn't reach for my hand, but our knees touched, and neither of us moved away.
The evening passed quietly after that. We didn't talk about the past. Not the betrayals or the heartbreaks or the missions. We didn't need to.
Sometimes healing didn't come in grand declarations. It came in shared silence, in the feel of someone beside you not leaving.
Felix fell asleep first, his head resting gently against the couch back, breath slow and steady. I watched him for a moment, realizing I didn't feel so lost anymore.
James was half-dozing across the room, his arms crossed but his face peaceful. The chaos of the last weeks had started to feel like a memory—not erased, but distant enough to let hope sneak in.
I pulled the blanket from the side of the couch and draped it over Felix's shoulders and kissed his cheek and went to the guest room to sleep