---
Lily leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his arm lightly. The contact was small, but it sent a strange tension through Sekhmet's body — part alarm, part awareness.
Lily's voice was quiet.
"You do not have to pretend with me," she whispered.
Sekhmet swallowed.
His throat felt dry again, but not from thirst. From the weight of being seen. He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze.
Her eyes were steady, warm, and stubborn.
Sekhmet exhaled slowly.
"I am tired," he admitted.
Lily's smile was soft.
"I know," she said again.
Sekhmet stared at the fire, then spoke quietly, almost like confessing something he did not know how to carry.
"Purgatory does not let you rest," he said. "Even when you sleep, you listen. Even when you breathe, you think about what might be hiding."
Lily nodded slowly.
"I know," she said. "But… you do not have to do it alone."
Sekhmet's jaw tightened.
"I can," he said.
Lily's hand moved slowly, resting on his forearm.
Her touch was warm.
