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"Good."

Carys takes a picture. I point at her.

"Don't."

"Too late."

"You are impossible."

"You love me anyway."

The words are quiet. Almost accidental. But they are true.

"I do."

For once, neither of us makes a joke. Because there are some things that don't need one.

Later, after the festival ends, after the candy is sorted and the costumes are discarded, the house becomes quiet.

Sayer falls asleep on the couch halfway through a horror movie. Carys covers him with a blanket. I watch her. The tenderness. The patience. The way she brushes hair away from his face.

My chest tightens.

"You okay?"

She looks back.

"Yeah."

This time, I believe her. We move Sayer to his room. Then we stand in the hallway.

Together. Alone. Not because the world is ending. Not because something is hunting us. Because we want to be.

"I keep expecting something else to happen," she admits.

I nod.

"Me too."

"Does that go away?"

I think about it.

"No."

That surprises her. Then I smile.

"But it gets quieter."

She steps closer.

"I like quiet."

"So do I."

Her hand slides into mine. No urgency. No fear. No desperation. Just choice.

"I don't want us to only exist because something terrible happened."