Jairdain smiled faintly at the sound of his chortle, the warmth of it brushing against her through the Force before his arms even settled around her.
She did not miss the concern threaded through his voice, nor the way his hand instinctively moved to her stomach as though he could shield both her and their son through sheer will. It was familiar. Comforting. Slightly exasperating.
"I am taking it easy," she replied gently, though there was a soft breath beneath the words that betrayed the truth of her fatigue. "This is easy, compared to some of the things we've done."
Her hand came to rest over his, where it curved against her abdomen, fingers threading lightly between his.
"He doesn't mind," she added with quiet amusement. "He protests when I sit still too long. I suspect he has inherited your need for motion."
There was warmth in that. Not an accusation. Not frustration. Just recognition.
When Jax mentioned trusting her judgment but not the Diarchy, she leaned into him more fully, resting her forehead briefly against his chest. She understood the divide between them. She always had. It had never been simple.
"I don't expect you to trust them," she said softly. "Not all of them. Not the structure. I barely do, some days." A small pause followed, thoughtful rather than tense. "But I trust people. Individuals. And I trust what I can feel."
Her head lifted slightly, blind eyes turning toward him, though she did not see his expression.
"And I trust you. Even when we disagree. Especially then."
There was no edge in her tone. No defensiveness. Just steadiness.
When he whispered about spoiling her and suggested dancing, her brows lifted in quiet disbelief.
"Dancing?" she echoed, one corner of her mouth curving upward. "You do realize I am carrying what feels like half the galaxy right now."
But she did not pull away.
Instead, she shifted slightly, adjusting her weight with careful deliberation before straightening in his embrace.
"And brownies?" she added, mock suspicion threading through her voice. "You are attempting bribery."
Her hand slid from his to cradle her stomach again, thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of her gown.
"He has been restless," she admitted quietly. "And I have been craving them. That is unfair leverage."
For a moment, she was silent, simply standing there in his arms, listening to the music drift across the lawn, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.
Then she smiled more fully.
"All right," she conceded softly. "One dance. Slowly. And if I wobble, you are entirely responsible."
Her fingers tightened gently around his sleeve.
"And afterward," she added, voice warm and conspiratorial, "you may procure the brownies. I will make no promises about restraint."
There was a softness in her presence then that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with love.
"For tonight," she murmured, "we can pretend the galaxy will behave itself."
And she let him guide her toward the music.
Jax Thio