A few days passed, and things had changed in the relationship between Ina and Hela.
They had shared more silence in recent days than they had in the last thousand years, and because of that, they often didn't know how to express what they were feeling.
Hela felt frustrated—frustrated, above all, that she couldn't simply stay there with Ina. But she also felt helpless, because staying meant watching her wife wither away right in front of her eyes.
It didn't seem fair. It wasn't fair.
But none of this was ever meant to be fair.
Most days, they exchanged only a few words after long hours apart, yet they still ended the night together, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing kisses, caresses, and the little time that still belonged to them.
But there were no words that could truly comfort Hela, and Ina couldn't ask for much more from her wife. She was simply grateful that Hela had not vanished—that she had chosen to stay.
