The moonlight poured across their skin like softened silver, bathing the broken world around them in a moment of unbroken peace. The rain had finally ceased—soft, sputtering drops fading into a hush—and in its absence came a stillness that felt... sacred.
They remained in each other's arms, unmoving, as if motion might shatter the illusion. Claire breathed slowly, her cheek resting against Atlas's chest like it belonged there. His body, warm and steady beneath hers, had become a quiet haven, a pulse she could count on.
The rhythm of his heartbeat—strong but not rushed—echoed gently beneath her ear. Every thump was a reassurance, and for the first time in years, she didn't need to be on guard. She didn't need to protect herself, or calculate, or pretend she didn't need anything at all.
She just… was.
