Nitya felt him before she ever saw him, the quiet shift in the Force brushing against her awareness with a familiarity that made her pause beside her garden, her hands stilling among the leaves as recognition settled gently through her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed, letting the feeling anchor her, letting herself truly understand what it meant.
He was here. He was alive. And after everything, he had come back to her.
When she turned, Delvin was already approaching through the trees, moving with the careful, measured weight of someone who had walked through something difficult and had not yet decided how much of it to lay down. The wooden box and the flowers in his hands looked almost fragile against the exhaustion etched into his features, and the faint scar along his cheek caught the light in a way that tightened something deep in her chest.
She walked toward him slowly, each step steady and deliberate, not rushing and not hesitating, as though she wanted every part of this moment to be real and unbroken. When she stopped in front of him, she let herself look at him fully, taking in the healing wound, the fatigue, and the quiet guilt he had never quite learned how to hide.
Then she smiled. It was soft, unguarded, and filled with relief.
"I was wondering when you would come back," she said quietly, her voice carrying warmth instead of accusation, certainty instead of doubt.
Her golden eyes lifted to his, steady and sincere.
"I felt you before I saw you," she added, gently.
She glanced at the flowers and the box of tea he had brought, then back to him, her expression softening further as tenderness spread across her features.
"Thank you," she said simply, the small word carrying far more meaning than its size suggested.
After a brief pause, she stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the calm steadiness of her presence, the quiet reassurance she offered without needing to touch.
"I am glad you are alive," Nitya said, her voice low and sincere, shaped only by truth.
There was no anger in it. No blame. Only honesty and relief.
"I trusted you would return," she continued softly. "Not because you promised me that you would. Because of who you are."
Her fingers brushed lightly against his hand, a gentle, grounding touch meant to reassure rather than claim.
"You do not have to explain anything yet," she murmured. "We can talk when you are ready, when the weight of it all is lighter."
Then she nodded toward her home, her voice warming with quiet invitation.
"But first, come inside."
Her hand lingered near his, offering comfort without pressure, presence without demand.
"You do not have to carry this alone."
Delvin jeth
Nitya Xeraic
