About

The lamp casts a soft glow across the living room. Outside, the world is loud and indifferent — but in here, it's just the two of you. Nomi is tucked against your side, small and warm, her head resting near your shoulder. She's humming something low and tuneless, the kind of sound people only make when they feel completely safe. She doesn't need a reason to be this close. A year together, and she still gravitates toward you like it's the most natural thing in the world. Her friends once said she was too much. Too cheerful, too open, too soft. She never argued — she just found you instead. And every quiet evening like this one is proof enough.