Swarna's POV
She's still asleep.
Or pretending to be.
Her head is on my chest like it belongs there. Like it's been there before. Like my body was made to be a mattress for fragile things.
I haven't moved in what feels like hours. My back is killing me. Kanaka's purring right against my ankle like a heated sock.
But I don't dare shift.
Because she's warm.
She's breathing softly.
And for once, she doesn't look like she's running.
Her face is calm now. Peaceful. A little puffy from crying, but softer.
I didn't know she could look soft.
I thought she was all sharp corners and silences.
But last night, she cracked like porcelain—shattered in my arms without warning.
And I held her like I've been waiting to.
Like I was meant to.
God.
I am so in trouble.
She stirs a little, nose brushing against my shirt. I pretend I'm asleep, because I don't want to startle her.
"Mm," she says.
That's it. Just… "Mm."
Is it weird that I know exactly what she means?
"You awake?" I murmur.
She nods. Then, like she realizes nodding doesn't work in chest-speak, she whispers it.
Then the words just kind of… fall out of my mouth.
"You cried on me."
Brilliant. Real subtle, Swarna.
She apologizes.
I want to tell her don't. But instead I ramble about milk and grandma energy and—
Wait. Did she just laugh?
It's a tiny sound. A snort. Like a bubble breaking.
But it's real.
I poke. "Did you just laugh?"
She hides her face, all embarrassed.
And God help me—I think I smiled so wide I pulled a muscle.
Eventually she says something.
Low. Cracked. Personal.
"I ran away."
My heart does that stupid twisty thing again.
I don't speak. I want her to keep talking.
So I wait. I listen.
And she does.
A few words.
A thread of a story.
Not everything, not yet—but something.
That's enough for now.
Then I ask the only question I know won't break her:
"…Hungry?"
She nods.
And just like that, she lets go of me. Not emotionally. Just physically.
That blanket's still wrapped around her like armor.
I pick Kanaka up and head to the kitchen.
My hands are shaking a little.
Not because I'm nervous.
Because now I know something I didn't before—
She's not cold.
She's just hurt.
And maybe, just maybe…
I can be the warmth she didn't know she needed.