Page 75 of Thexan

“No,” I said, my pulse giving one hard beat. “It isn’t.”

His attention returned to me, focused and absolute.

“Then this is significant.”

“Yes,” I said softly. “It is.”

I didn’t answer that right away.

Instead, I reached for him first.

The decision came without hesitation, but the movement itself was slower, deliberate in a way that made me aware of every inch of distance that disappeared between us. When I placed my hand against his chest, I felt the steadiness there, the absence of the instability that had defined him only a couple of weeks ago.

He was alive, stable, and here.

His hand came up to my face, the contact careful, as though he was measuring the pressure even now, even with the bond no longer forcing that caution. His thumb brushed lightly along my jaw, not tentative, but precise, like everything else he did.

When he lowered his head, there was nothing rushed in it.

No urgency.

No uncertainty.

The contact, when it came, was firm and deliberate, his mouth meeting mine with the same control he applied to everything else, but without the distance that had been there before. It wasn’t testing. It was a choice made visible, carried through physical contact instead of explanation.

I didn’t think.

I responded.

My hand tightened against him, the awareness between us deepening, shifting into something that no longer felt like something happening around us, but something we were actively shaping together.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t far.

It wasn’t enough to break the connection.

“Show me,” he said again, quieter this time.

I held his gaze for a second longer, then nodded once.

“Come on,” I said.

I turned and led him through the narrow doorway at the back of the infirmary, into the small room beyond that most people in the settlement didn’t even think about anymore.

It wasn’t large.

A narrow bed against one wall. A small table. A single window that looked out over the lower edge of the settlement. It had always been enough for me because it was all I needed between long days spent taking care of everyone else.

Now, stepping into it with him behind me, it felt… different.

Not smaller.

More defined.

More real.

I turned back to face him, aware again of how close he was, how little distance there was left between what had been separate lives only days ago.

“This is where I live,” I said.