Chapter 43

The place was small, but I couldn’t stop staring at it, trying to drink in every detail. Our own quarters. It still didn’t feel real, not quite. The room had that scent of fresh paint and clean, empty surfaces, but soon it would be filled with warmth, memories… and, of course, our scents. The thought made my heart flutter.

Silas walked past me, carrying a stack of soft linens that seemed to swallow his arms, and I couldn’t help but smile. I could see his muscles tense as he held the bundle, his expression one of determined focus. He set them down on the bare mattress in the second bedroom, the one that was to become my nest room. I’d dreamed about having a space like this—a room just for me, a place to cocoon and disappear when I needed it.

“You know, you don’t have to carry everything at once,” I teased, leaning against the doorframe.

He shot me a playful glare. “I’m trying to be efficient.”

I laughed softly, stepping into the room and brushing my fingers along the bare walls. They were cool, but soon enough, this space would be filled with everything soft, everything that made me feel safe. I could practically see it already—cozy fabrics, the faint glow of string lights, the piles of blankets and pillows. It was everything I’d never had but always wanted. And now, I was building it here, with Silas.

“Where do you want these?” he asked, holding up a stack of throw pillows and blankets.

I bit my lip, pointing to the left side of the bed. “Let’s start there. I’ll layer the blankets; you just bring everything over, and we can figure out what goes where.”

As he hauled over the piles of fabric, I began to arrange them, layering them with a practiced, careful touch. Each blanket and pillow had a purpose, a specific place to create the warmth I craved. I tucked and smoothed, fluffing the pillows to perfection. A canopy of sheer curtains would drape over the bedposts, filtering the glow of the string lights to make the whole room feel like a soft, hidden sanctuary.

Silas stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched me with a small smile. “You look like you’re in your element.”

I paused, glancing up at him. “I guess… I guess I am.” The realization struck me with a sudden, unexpected force. This was my nest. My real nest. I’d always pieced together something small and temporary in the dorms—barely enough to call a nest, really. But this… this was mine. A whole room, a whole space. I didn’t have to tear it down or hide it. And I was building it with Silas.

The lump in my throat tightened as I smoothed the next blanket, the fabric soft under my fingers. Silas noticed my pause and took a step forward, his voice quiet. “Hey… you okay?”

I swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. It’s just… I’ve never had this. Not really.” I hesitated, letting my fingers trace along the edge of a pillow. “I’ve never had a place like this that felt like mine. And you’re here, helping me make it. It feels… right.”

His hand came to rest on my shoulder, a gentle pressure that made the moment feel even more real. “I’m glad I get to do this with you,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a soft circle. “This is your space, Mara. No one can take it from you.”

The tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. I didn’t want to cry; I wanted to savor this, to remember every detail. My gaze drifted to the bed, to the soft piles of blankets and pillows, and I turned back to Silas, lifting a hand to his shirt.

“Your shirt,” I said, voice firm.

He raised an eyebrow. “My shirt?”

“Yes.” I tugged lightly at the fabric, feeling the warmth of him through the soft material.

He didn’t argue, didn’t hesitate. With a small smile, he pulled the shirt over his head, revealing his bare chest and the steady rhythm of his breathing. The warmth of his skin lingered on the fabric as he handed it to me, and I carefully placed it on top of the blankets, smoothing it out and arranging it so that his scent would permeate every layer.

I sat down beside the shirt, resting my fingers on the fabric. It felt like a part of him was here, woven into the nest, wrapping me in safety and warmth. I’d never thought that something as simple as a piece of clothing could make me feel this close to him, this comforted. But it did. It was exactly what I needed.

He crouched down beside me, his eyes soft as he watched me arrange the rest of the nest. “It’s perfect,” he said quietly, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through me.

I managed a small smile, brushing my fingers over the layers of fabric and pillows, each piece in its perfect place. “I think it is. Thank you, Silas. For everything. I know this probably seems… silly, or overly complicated—”

“It’s not.” His hand covered mine, his touch grounding me. “It’s yours. It should be exactly how you want it. And I’m glad I get to be a part of that.”

His words wrapped around me like the blankets I’d piled onto the bed, each one softening the ache I’d carried for so long. I could feel the emotions building, threatening to spill over. This was more than just a room. It was a piece of me, a part of my life I’d never been able to share with anyone. And now Silas was here, his hand steadying me, his shirt a part of my nest, his scent filling the space.

I pulled my knees up, curling into the softness of the nest, letting myself sink into the comfort of it all. Silas shifted, and I felt him adjust one of the pillows behind me, settling it into place. He tucked a blanket around my shoulders, his fingers lingering for a moment, his presence steady and warm.

“Feels like home, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, feeling the tears pricking at my eyes again. “Yeah… it really does.” I leaned into the pillow, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of him, of the fresh linen, of the soft glow of the lights. I didn’t care that the world outside was still waiting, full of responsibilities and expectations. For now, all I needed was this—this space, this moment, and Silas by my side.

He settled down next to me, not speaking, just letting his presence fill the quiet. We sat there, wrapped in the silence, in the warmth of the nest. It was like all the worries, the fears, the burdens of the outside world melted away, leaving only the soft, gentle peace of now.

For the first time, I felt like I belonged somewhere. Not just in a room, not just in a place—but in something that I’d built, something that was mine. And with Silas by my side, helping me make it real, I felt a flicker of hope—a hope I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time.

“I could get used to this,” I murmured, my voice soft, almost shy.

He chuckled, a deep, comforting sound. “Good. Because you deserve it, Mara. You deserve a place that feels safe.”

I turned to him, catching his gaze. There was something unspoken in his eyes, a warmth, a tenderness that settled in my chest. And I knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word. This wasn’t just a room. It was a promise—a promise of safety, of comfort, of belonging. And as I curled up in the nest, Silas’s scent surrounding me, I let that promise settle deep inside, letting myself believe in it, if only for a little while.