Jora let out a low hum of amusement, eyes glinting with warmth. “Investigative, huh?” she echoed, tilting her head up to look at him with a teasing smirk. “You make it sound like I belong on a council of elders with scrolls and secrets.” She poked him lightly in the ribs. “You know I just like answers. I need to know things. Otherwise, my brain starts inventing every possible scenario, and most of them involve something exploding.”

His arms around her tightened slightly, and she melted into it, her smile softening into something deeper, steadier. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Even when we were apart. Even before I really knew why I missed you so much, I always felt... tethered. Like my heart knew something my head hadn’t caught up with yet.”

Her eyes closed for a second at the mention of another little one, her heart fluttering at the thought. “Mmh. I’ve been thinking about it too,” she admitted, quiet but sure. “Lyra would make a good big sister, don’t you think?” A faint chuckle rose in her throat. “She already tries to boss the gulls around.”

She shifted a little, pulling her knees closer and resting her chin on them. The sea stretched out before them, endless and ancient, and she felt the wind tangle her hair as Sage absentmindedly combed through it with his fingers. That touch grounded her more than anything else in the world.

“We’ll get through whatever comes next,” she said, voice barely above the breeze. “We’ve already weathered worse. And now we’ve got a whole house, and a porch, and a napping baby who’ll be running around screaming again in thirty minutes.” Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “And maybe... maybe even peace.”

She leaned her head into his shoulder again and whispered, “Thank you. For making this life with me.”