(Keifer's POV)
We didn't move immediately.
The moment stayed for a while.
Quiet.
Then she exhaled softly.
"…you're too serious," she said.
There it was.
I looked at her.
"You're not serious enough."
She rolled her eyes.
"I almost died and you still want discipline."
"I want you alive."
"…same thing," she muttered.
Not really.
She stood up first.
Slow.
Controlled.
Better than before.
I watched.
Didn't stop her.
"Come on," she said, already taking a step ahead.
Too fast.
I caught her wrist lightly.
"Slow."
"I am slow," she replied immediately.
"You think you are."
"I am."
I didn't let go.
She looked at my hand.
Then at me.
"…you're not letting go, are you?"
"No."
A pause.
Then she sighed.
But didn't pull away.
"Fine," she said.
We started walking again.
Slower this time.
She stayed close.
Not because she had to.
Because she didn't move away.
The crowd had thinned outside.
Evening settling in.
The light softer now.
Less noise.
Less rush.
She looked around quietly.
Then slightly toward me.
"…it's nice," she said.
"It is."
"Better than inside."
"Less people."
"Less Percy," she added.
That made me almost smile.
We walked toward the parking area.
No hurry.
No rush.
Halfway—
she slowed down on her own.
I noticed immediately.
"Tired?" I asked.
"…a little," she admitted.
Better.
I didn't say anything.
Just adjusted my pace again.
She moved closer.
This time—on her own.
Her shoulder brushed mine.
Then stayed there.
Small.
Quiet.
I let it.
After a few steps—
her head leaned slightly against my arm.
Not fully.
Just enough.
"You're going to make this a habit," I said.
"…maybe," she replied.
"That's dangerous."
"For you," she said.
Not wrong.
We reached the car.
I opened the door for her.
She stopped before getting in.
Looked at me.
"…thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For today."
I nodded once.
"You needed it," I said.
"…so did you," she replied quietly.
A pause.
Then she got in.
The drive back was quiet again.
But different now.
Lighter.
Softer.
She leaned back in her seat.
Eyes half closed.
Not asleep.
Just resting.
I didn't disturb her.
Because today—
for once—
she didn't fight everything.
And I didn't need to stop her.
For now—
that was enough.
Morning came quieter than usual.
No voices.
No movement.
But something felt… off.
I woke up slowly.
Still half asleep.
Then I noticed—
she wasn't beside me.
Again.
I sat up.
This time, not panicking.
Just… aware.
A soft sound came from across the room.
I looked.
And there she was.
Standing near the bed.
Packing.
Her suitcase was open.
Not too big.
Just one.
Of course.
She wasn't the type to carry too much.
Never was.
Clothes folded.
Simple.
No overthinking.
No unnecessary things.
Just what she needed.
I leaned back slightly.
Watching her for a moment.
"You're up early," I said.
She didn't turn immediately.
"…couldn't sleep."
Same answer.
Different day.
"You're packing already?"
"Yes."
"For a few days."
"I know."
I exhaled quietly.
She closed the suitcase halfway.
Adjusted something inside.
Careful.
But not slow.
Better control now.
"You don't need that much," I said.
"It's not much."
"One suitcase."
"That is less."
Not wrong.
I got up.
Walked toward her.
Stopped close enough.
Not too close.
"You're feeling okay?" I asked.
"…yes."
I looked at her.
"You're not forcing it?"
She turned this time.
"No."
A pause.
"…I'm just ready," she added.
Something about that—
felt different.
Not stubborn.
Not defensive.
Just… sure.
I nodded once.
"Sit for a minute," I said.
"I'm fine."
"Sit."
She looked at me.
Then—
without arguing—
sat down on the bed.
Good.
I zipped the suitcase the rest of the way.
Placed it aside.
"You're not carrying this," I said.
"I can."
"I know."
"But you won't."
She sighed.
"…you're annoying."
"I know."
A pause.
Then she leaned back slightly.
Relaxed.
"Everyone's coming, right?" she asked.
"Yes."
"All of them?"
"All."
She nodded slowly.
"…this is going to be loud."
"It always is."
A small pause.
Then—
"…good," she said.
I looked at her.
And for the first time—
she didn't look tired.
Not hiding it.
Not forcing it.
Just… ready.
And that—
was new.
She stayed quiet for a moment.
Just sitting there.
Then suddenly—
she dropped back on the bed.
No warning.
Just fell back like she was done thinking.
I looked at her.
"…what are you doing?"
She stared at the ceiling.
Completely relaxed.
Then—
"I can swim," she said.
I paused.
That wasn't random.
I already knew where this was going.
"That's not the point," I said.
She turned her head slightly.
"…then what is?"
I looked at her.
"Your stitches."
A pause.
She exhaled.
Annoyed already.
"They won't open," she said.
"They can."
"They won't."
"They can," I repeated.
She sat up this time.
Facing me properly.
"I'll be careful," she said.
"That's not enough."
"It is."
"It's not."
She frowned.
"I won't go deep."
"No."
"I'll stay near the edge."
"No."
She stared at me.
"…you're not even listening."
"I am."
"Then say yes."
"No."
Silence.
She looked away.
Ran a hand through her hair.
Frustrated.
Not angry.
"…I just want to do something normal," she said.
I didn't answer immediately.
Because I understood that.
But that didn't change anything.
"I can't watch that happen again," I said quietly.
She looked back at me.
"If your stitches open—"
I stopped for a second.
Then continued, slower.
"It will hurt you."
My voice dropped.
"And I can't stand there and see you in pain."
Silence.
Her expression changed.
Not arguing anymore.
Just… thinking.
A long pause passed between us.
Then she leaned back again.
This time slower.
"…you're so annoying," she muttered.
"I know."
Another pause.
"…fine," she added quietly.
Not fully agreeing.
Not happy.
Just… letting it go.
For now.
I watched her for a second.
Because even if she gave in—
I knew she still wanted to try.