The morning air still carried the chill of rain when Aaron found Mina on the porch. She'd wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, a mug warming her hands, her eyes fixed on the quiet street below. Across the road, the house Aaron had bought weeks ago stood with the shutters half-open, sunlight glinting off the windows.
He leaned against the doorframe. "You've been out here a while."
"I needed the air," she said without looking at him.
He crossed the steps, stopping beside her. "You're not safe here, Mina. You know that. Fernando's gone, but his mess isn't. There'll be noise—questions, rumours. I can't protect you from this side of the street."
Mina's fingers tightened around the mug. "It's over, Aaron. You ended it. What else is there to protect me from?"
He exhaled through his nose, slow and frustrated. "You don't get it. People don't just disappear without someone asking why. His men will start sniffing around. They'll find this place. I'm right across from Naarah's house—it's familiar, close, quiet. You can still see her whenever you want. Just… come stay with me. Let me keep you and Ellie safe."
She finally turned to face him, the blanket slipping from her shoulder. "You mean, move in."
Aaron met her eyes. "Yeah. Move in."
Her throat worked as she looked back toward the little garden, the toys stacked near the fence. "I've had enough people deciding where I belong," she said softly. "I need to breathe, Aaron. Not just hide behind you."
He stepped closer, his hand brushing the edge of her sleeve. "It's not about hiding. It's about building something that won't fall apart every time someone pulls a trigger." His tone softened. "I bought that place because I wanted it to feel normal. For you. For Ellie."
Mina's gaze flicked toward the house again. It looked peaceful—white curtains, flowers in the window box—but part of her saw it as another cage. "And if I move in, what happens when the next storm comes?" she asked. "You'll handle it, and I'll just wait for you to come back bleeding?"
Aaron's jaw tightened. He wanted to promise her that no more storms were coming, but he couldn't lie like that anymore. "Then we handle it together," he said instead. "You're not someone I keep behind a door, princesa. I'm not making that same mistake again. You're the reason I walk through it."
She studied him for a long moment, the anger and the affection tangled too tightly to separate. "I'll think about it," she whispered finally. "But don't ask me to decide tonight."
He nodded, backing away a step. "That's all I'm asking. Think about it."
Mina watched him cross the yard, heading back toward the house across the street. When he reached his gate, he turned and gave her a small, tired smile. She didn't return it—but she didn't look away either.
The space between their houses had never felt so close, or so uncertain.