The healer notices it immediately.
She doesn’t comment on it, not at first, but her eyes track everything.
The distance between them. The way Willow enters the room. The way Rayven follows, not behind, not ahead, but beside.
Equal. Close. Not touching. But not avoiding it either.
That alone is different.
Before, there had been space. Not just physical. Something colder. Structured.
Now, there is something quieter. Warmer. Unspoken. And undeniable.
“Sit,” the healer says.
They do. But even that is different.
Willow doesn’t hesitate as long. She doesn’t fold into herself the same way. Her shoulders are still slightly tense, but not collapsed. Not guarded to the point of disappearance.
Rayven takes his place where he always does. But this time, his focus isn’t split between control
