They ate in near quiet. The stew burned her tongue, but she didn’t slow down. It tasted real — not stale, not rationed.
When night settled, he placed a blanket near the hearth.
“You take the bed,” he said. “I’ll stay here.”
She stiffened. “I don’t want to be touched.”
He nodded once. “I won’t touch what isn’t offered.”
Something inside her — something coiled tight for years — loosened.
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