Sunlight, quiet hearts
I woke to sunlight warming the edge of the blanket.
For the first time in a long time, waking didn't feel like returning from danger. It felt like rising into something gentle.
Lira was still asleep against my chest, her hair soft against my jaw, her breathing slow and peaceful. Seris was curled behind me, her arm around my waist in a loose protective embrace, her forehead resting between my shoulder blades again—like she finally trusted sleep enough to let it take her.
For a moment, none of us moved.
The bond hummed quietly, like it was stretching with us as the light reached across the bed.
Lira stirred first, shifting slightly beneath the blankets. Her eyes blinked open, unfocused at first, then softening the moment she realized where she was.
"Good morning," she whispered.
I smiled. "Morning."
She hesitated only a second before pressing a soft kiss to my collarbone—barely a touch, barely a breath—but enough to send warmth through every part of me.
Seris groaned softly behind me. "You two are going to make mornings impossible."
Lira laughed quietly. "You can close your eyes again."
Seris's arms tightened around me instead. "No. I'm staying exactly here."
I shifted enough to glance over my shoulder at her. "Sleep well?"
She opened one eye, glaring half-heartedly. "I slept because you were here. Don't make it weird."
Which, of course, made Lira smile in a way she tried to hide.
I reached carefully and slid my fingers along Seris's hand. She froze, like she wasn't expecting that small gesture—but she didn't pull away. Not even close.
The sunlight warmed all three of us, and for a moment, the world outside the blankets didn't exist. Just warmth. Just breath. Just us.
Lira shifted up slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Arin?" she murmured.
"Yes?"
She looked down at me—soft, shy, full of warmth. "Last night wasn't a mistake."
My heart stuttered. "I know."
"I mean—" she corrected gently, "—the kiss. I wanted it. Not because of the bond. Because it was you."
I swallowed hard. "Lira…"
She leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to my cheek. "That's all I wanted you to know."
Seris watched us with an expression I couldn't read at first—until I realized what it was.
Not jealousy.
Understanding.
She shifted forward, resting her forehead briefly against mine like she had last night. "If you're going to do this whole being loved thing," she muttered, "just remember you have two people doing it."
The words hit harder than any kiss.
Lira smiled at her softly. "We'll make room. Always."
Seris blinked, throat tightening just enough for me to see it. "Don't say things like that. I'll believe you."
Lira whispered back, "Good."
And slowly— very slowly— Seris leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss to my temple.
Barely there. Barely a breath. But real.
I exhaled shakily, feeling my heart expand far too quickly for one moment.
We lay like that—three bodies tangled beneath morning light, a bond pulsing gently between us, the fracture quiet and warm like it was listening to something it had never known before.
Love.
Not magic. Not history. Not memory.
Love.
And for the first time since all this began, I didn't feel afraid of what might come next.
I felt ready for it— because I wasn't facing it alone.
We didn't rush out of bed.
There was no alarm, no summons, no fear dragging us upright. Just warmth, and soft breathing, and sunlight painting slow gold across the sheets.
Lira shifted first, curling closer against my side like the world outside the blankets didn't matter yet. Seris stretched lazily behind me, her arm loosening just enough for me to turn and face her.
She blinked at me once—slowly, almost sleepily—and then said, deadpan:
"You're really pretty in the morning. It's deeply irritating."
I laughed softly. "Sorry?"
"No you're not," she muttered, cheeks warming faintly.
Lira brushed her thumb gently along my jaw, voice soft. "I agree with her."
I swallowed, overwhelmed in a way I wasn't prepared for. "Both of you are—"
"Nope," Seris cut in, "don't you dare compliment us before breakfast. I'm emotionally fragile before food."
Lira giggled, and the sound was enough to make everything feel lighter.
Seris rubbed at her eyes, finally sitting upright. She looked down at us—me and Lira lying close—and something in her expression softened, the fierceness melting into a warmth she didn't hide this time.
"You know," she said quietly, almost awkwardly, "I'm glad it was her first."
Lira blinked, startled. "Seris—"
"No," she said, shaking her head a little. "I mean it. You're gentle. And you don't take too much space." She hesitated. "I'm still figuring out how to not do that."
I sat up beside her, brushing her shoulder lightly. "You don't take too much space. Not with us."
Her breath caught—just slightly.
And then Lira slid closer, curling her fingers gently around Seris's wrist.
"You're allowed to be big," Lira said softly. "We're just learning how to make room together."
I told , first we needed a big bed rather than a big room ! Haha
Seris stared at her for a long moment. Then something inside her defenses softened, and she whispered, almost too quietly to hear—
"Okay."
I took her other hand, holding it carefully.
"And I want you here," I said. "Both of you."
Lira leaned her head against my shoulder, eyes closed. "I don't want to go anywhere."
Seris let out a shaky breath she'd been holding for days. "Neither do I."
---
Eventually—but only because hunger finally won—Seris grumbled:
"Fine. Breakfast. But no getting jealous if I steal food from your plates."
Lira laughed, bright and soft. "You can steal mine anytime."
Seris pointed at her dramatically. "You're dangerous."
"Only sometimes," Lira said, smiling up at me.
And then—without thinking—Seris reached between us and laced her fingers through both of ours at the same time.
Not afraid. Not hesitant. Not almost.
Just choosing us.
Together.