The air in the kitchen had shifted.
It wasn't heavy anymore, but it wasn't light either. Something lingered between them. Not quite anger, not quite sorrow. Just that strange in-between space after a disagreement, where silence becomes careful. Not tense, but fragile.
Hriva leaned slightly into Jake's chest, her head resting against the fabric of his shirt. His arms were still around her, steady but loose now, as if giving her space to choose whether to stay or pull away.
She stayed.
Neither of them moved for a while.
Jake's hand slowly lifted and threaded through the strands of her hair. His fingers brushed from the crown of her head to just past her shoulders, moving in gentle, rhythmic strokes. It was the kind of touch that didn't ask for anything. It just gave. Soothing. Grounding.
Hriva closed her eyes.
That simple act, the way he touched her without trying to fix anything, made something stir in her throat. Something tight and unspoken.
"I'm not good at this part," she whispered.
Jake kept brushing his fingers through her hair, not asking her to explain.
"The opening up part," she added. "The being soft after being angry. I always want to run or shut down. Pretend like it didn't happen."
He let out a quiet breath against her temple.
"You didn't run tonight."
She tilted her head just slightly to look up at him.
"You didn't let me," she said.
His lips curved into a small, crooked smile.
"I would've followed you anyway."
Hriva's heart tightened again. This time not in hurt, but in something warmer. Something gentler. She studied his face in the dim kitchen light. The way his lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes. The way his mouth looked like it had been holding back more than just words.
She reached up and touched his jaw lightly with her fingers. Just a brush. Barely there.
Jake tilted his head, just enough to press a kiss into the middle of her palm.
She swallowed.
Then his hand moved again, this time brushing her hair behind her ear. A slow sweep, his fingertips grazing her cheek along the way. Her breath hitched the slightest bit.
Jake leaned in, close but patient.
He paused when their foreheads almost touched, eyes holding hers. Waiting.
Not for permission exactly, but for closeness to be mutual. For the emotional space between them to shrink willingly.
Hriva lifted her face the rest of the way.
Jake kissed her.
It wasn't urgent. It wasn't trying to erase what had happened in the kitchen a few minutes ago. It was soft and slow and made of something quieter than apology. Something deeper than comfort. His lips moved over hers in a rhythm that felt familiar now. Anchoring.
She kissed him back, one hand curling against his chest. Her body leaned into his instinctively, as if the nearness had become a language they both spoke.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together.
Hriva's eyes stayed closed for a beat longer.
"I don't want us to fight like that," she said quietly.
"Then let's promise to talk sooner," Jake replied. "Even when it's messy."
She gave a small nod, still close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
Jake opened his eyes first and tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. "Want to change into something comfy and curl up for a while?"
Hriva let out a soft exhale. "Yeah."
He gave her a small, crooked smile again and kissed her forehead. "I'll clean up the glasses."
As she turned to head to the bedroom, her fingers dragged along his forearm briefly. She didn't say anything more, but something about the touch said thank you. For not walking away. For still choosing her.
Jake watched her disappear down the hall, then turned back toward the sink.
The apartment was quiet again, but it didn't feel empty. Just still. The kind of stillness that comes after a storm has passed and the world hasn't found its footing yet.
Jake cleaned the glasses, wiped the counter, then joined her minutes later, finding her curled up on the couch in one of his shirts. Her knees were tucked under her, her hair loose now and slightly tangled from his fingers.
She looked up when he entered, and for the first time that night, she smiled without effort.
"Come here," she said softly.
Jake crossed the room, and without another word, she opened the blanket for him. He slid in beside her, pulling her close. Their bodies fit like they always had.
And in that quiet, post-fight calm, they didn't need to speak. They just breathed. Together.
The storm hadn't broken them.
It had just reminded them what it meant to stay.