Later that morning, Sky stood in front of the bathroom mirror wearing one of Ayana's oversized hoodies. Her hair was a mess. Her lips were still swollen from kissing. Her thighs ached in a way that made her blush just remembering.
But what startled her wasn't the state of her body—it was her face.
She looked... calm.
She traced the line of her jaw, studying herself as if from a distance.
Her reflection had always been a battleground. A negotiation between what she was taught to see and what she secretly hoped was there. But this morning, there was no performance. No judgment. Just a quiet kind of presence.
"I see you," she whispered to herself.
The words settled in her chest like stones. They didn't sink. They rooted.
Ayana knocked lightly on the doorframe, holding out a mug of tea. "You okay?"
Sky turned. "You keep asking me that."
"I'll stop when it's obvious."
Sky took the mug. "Then you might be asking for a while."
Ayana tilted her head. "Do you want the truth?"
Sky nodded, bracing herself.
"You look like you finally exhaled."
Sky's eyes burned. She looked down at the tea, trying not to cry.
Ayana stepped forward and touched her wrist. "I'm proud of you."
"For what?"
"For letting someone see you without armor."
Sky set the mug down and wrapped her arms around Ayana, burying her face in her neck. "I'm scared."
Ayana held her tighter. "Me too. But not enough to let go."
By the time they finished breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit Ayana cut into neat cubes—Sky's phone buzzed.
She flinched.
Ayana looked up from her coffee. "Everything okay?"
Sky unlocked her phone and winced. "Three missed calls. And a text from Kairo."
Ayana raised a brow. "Want to read it to me?"
Sky hesitated, then nodded.
You good? Haven't seen you since Thursday. I know I joke a lot, but I meant it—if you ever need to not be alone, I'm around. No pressure. Just care.
Sky exhaled. "He's… thoughtful."
"He is," Ayana agreed. "And he sees you. In a different way than I do, but it matters."
Sky looked at her. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"
Ayana smiled into her coffee. "I'm not competing. I trust what's between us."
Sky's lips curved slightly. "You sound so sure."
"I'm not," Ayana admitted. "But I'm choosing to believe in it anyway."
They cleaned up the kitchen together. The quiet between them was full, not empty. Sky caught herself watching Ayana's hands—how she wiped the counter, how she rinsed each dish. It was strange how much intimacy lived in ordinary things.
"How do you do that?" Sky asked, handing her a plate.
"Do what?"
"Make everything feel like it matters. Even washing dishes."
Ayana shrugged. "Because it does. These are the moments that hold us together."
Sky leaned against the counter. "Do you think we'll look back on this and remember how it felt?"
"I hope so," Ayana said. "But more than that, I hope we're still writing it."