Meilin pushed the door to her room open and gently closed it behind her.
The moment the latch clicked shut, the world outside faded.
Zimei trotted in after her, soft paws padding against the floor. Meilin smiled, bent down, and lifted the little puppy into her arms, settling her onto her lap as she sat on the edge of the bed.
The room was quiet—only the distant rustle of night wind through the trees, the soft glow of the bedside lamp wrapping everything in warmth.
Meilin leaned back slightly, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Zimei's fur.
A slow smile curved her lips.
Today…
Her heart felt full.
Her mind replayed the morning again—
The dim cave light.
The warmth of his chest beneath her cheek.
The way she had traced his face with trembling fingers, afraid yet unwilling to stop.
And that kiss—soft, fleeting—pressed against his forehead.
Her lashes fluttered.
That was the first time, she thought, since rebirth… the first time I hugged him without fear.
Then came the hike.
The memory of his back—steady, firm, unwavering—rose vividly in her mind.
The way he had adjusted his grip each time the path grew steeper.
The warmth of his shoulder beneath her hands.
How he had carried her all the way home, without complaint, without hesitation.
Meilin's lips curved wider.
Her legs lifted slightly as she lay back on the bed, and she couldn't help it—
She wiggled them lightly in the air, pure, unrestrained happiness bubbling up from her chest.
Zimei tilted her head and let out a soft sound, as if confused.
Meilin laughed quietly. "Zimei… today was perfect."
Then—
A sharp twinge shot through her ankle.
Her breath hitched.
"…Ah."
Reality returned.
She slowly sat up, exhaling softly, the smile fading into something calmer, more grounded. Setting Zimei aside on the bed, she reached for her medical kit without hesitation.
Doctor or not, she was still injured.
She rolled up the hem of her pajama pants. Her ankle was slightly swollen now, a faint red blooming beneath pale skin.
Meilin examined it carefully, fingers gentle but precise.
"A mild sprain," she murmured to herself. "No fracture."
She cleaned the area, applied medicinal ointment with practiced motions, then wrapped it securely, adjusting the pressure just right.
Her movements were calm, efficient—muscle memory from years of healing others.
When she finished, she leaned back against the pillows, exhaling slowly.
Zimei crawled back into her arms, curling against her chest.
Meilin lowered her gaze to the little puppy, her smile returning—soft, satisfied, glowing.
Today had hurt.
But today had also given her something precious.
And as she lay there, ankle bandaged, heart warm, memories lingering like a sweet ache—
Meilin knew.
No matter how long the road ahead was…
She would walk it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And this time—
She wouldn't walk it alone.