Chapter 25: You Feel Like Home

  Lena didn’t say it outright, but something shifted after Mira whispered, I want to be the only one you touch like that.

  It was there in the way she moved—how she stepped in that night without a word, curled her fingers around Mira’s jaw, and kissed her with a slow, quiet kind of intensity that made Mira’s stomach flutter. It wasn’t possessive, not exactly. It felt steadier than that. Certain. Like Lena was making a promise in the way she kissed, and expecting Mira to understand it without needing to hear it back.

  They didn’t talk about it again.

  They didn’t need to.

  But the next morning, when Lena passed Mira her tea, her fingers lingered just a little too long around the cup. When she packed Mira’s scarf into her bag, her hands moved carefully, almost protective. And when she said, “Come over ter,” it wasn’t a suggestion—it wasn’t even a habit anymore.

  It was routine. Familiar. Unspoken.

  It hadn’t been a question for a while.

  ---

  The first time Mira opened Lena’s dresser and saw her own socks folded neatly inside, she actually paused mid-motion—hoodie halfway over her head, hair a mess, heart skipping in that weird, startled way when something feels too intimate too fast.

  Lavender. The fuzzy pair she always wore after showers. The ones Lena had once rolled her eyes at before quietly calling them “ridiculously soft.”

  They were folded beside Lena’s own. Like they’d always belonged there.

  Mira blinked. Then, gently, she slid the drawer shut—like she was afraid of waking something tender.

  After that, it just… kept happening.

  Her toothbrush stayed in the ceramic cup on Lena’s sink, nudged beside the mint one Lena used. Her shampoo was tucked next to Lena’s in the shower caddy. One morning, she reached for tea and found her favorite blend already sitting in the cupboard—half-finished, obviously used.

  And Lena never pointed any of it out. Never made a show of it.

  But every time Mira left, she still caught herself wondering—Will she invite me again? Will she want me back?

  She always was.

  Sometimes, Lena didn’t even need to ask. She’d just lift an eyebrow and say, “Wear something warm,” or “We’ll get dinner ter,” like Mira was already hers to pn around.

  By Friday afternoon, Mira didn’t ask anymore.

  They were walking through downtown, their steps slow and side by side, sunlight brushing down over the awnings and shop windows. They weren’t holding hands, but Mira’s sleeve brushed Lena’s coat every few steps like a whisper.

  When they passed the little used bookstore with the squeaky blue door, Mira tugged lightly on Lena’s sleeve. “Can we stop here?”

  Lena gave a small, inevitable nod. “Of course.”

  Inside, it smelled like paper and cedar and maybe a little dust. The lights were soft, golden, warm. Mira drifted forward without waiting—drawn toward the romance section like it pulled something in her chest.

  Lena stayed behind for a moment, watching her from between the stacks. There was something unguarded in the way Mira tipped her head to read the spines, how she lingered with each title before choosing, like she trusted the books to find her first.

  Lena didn’t interrupt.

  She just leaned against the shelf, one hand in her coat pocket, smiling like Mira was the softest thing in the room.

  That night, they read in bed together. Lamps low. Music soft.

  Mira had her legs tucked under the bnket, her novel open against her knees. Lena read something heavier—something about Russian literature, Mira didn’t ask. They didn’t speak much. The quiet between them was its own kind of closeness.

  Eventually, Mira’s book slipped shut. She stretched, sighed, and crawled—wordlessly—into Lena’s p like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Lena didn’t say a word.

  She just adjusted her position slightly, brushed Mira’s hair away from her face, and ran her fingers over the curve of her ear until Mira melted all over again.

  “You always end up here,” Lena murmured eventually, almost smiling.

  Mira made a soft sound, already half-asleep. “I like it here.”

  “I know you do.”

  Lena kissed the top of her head. “You don’t need to ask anymore, you know.”

  Mira blinked up, slow and dazed. “Ask what?”

  “To stay.”

  There was a beat of silence. Then—quietly, not quite a whisper—Mira said, “I wasn’t going to.”

  Lena’s smile deepened.

  They fell asleep like that. Mira curled against her, breathing even. Lena with her hand still in Mira’s hair, like she couldn’t bring herself to let go.

  Outside, the city lights blinked faintly. Inside, everything stayed still.

  And just before drifting off, Mira murmured something Lena barely caught.

  “You feel like home.”

  Lena didn’t answer right away. She just pulled the bnket higher and kissed Mira’s temple, slow and certain.

  “You are mine,” she whispered back. “Of course I do.”