It was a strange feeling. An odd, prickling warmth that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun streaming through the windows and everything to do with the woman walking beside him, her small hand a steady anchor under his elbow. He was acutely aware of every careful step she took, her body angled as if she was ready to catch him if he even shifted the wrong way. It was unsettling. Uncomfortable. And yet, somewhere very deep inside him, it was annoyingly, undeniably warm in a way he could not name or fully understand.
"I can walk on my own," he muttered again, the words coming out more like a low grumble than an actual protest, like he already knew she was not going to listen to him anyway.
"I know," Bella replied, her voice calm and smooth like a still pond that did not move even when wind tried to disturb it. "But you won't."
