Loren reached out and took her hand.
Her hand was warm, her fingertips slightly hot from holding the tea earlier. There were thin calluses on her palm, marks left by years of martial arts practice.
She was not an ordinary woman who only knew how to make tea and bake cookies. She was Tifa Lockhart.
A fighter from the world of Final Fantasy VII, his companion, his comrade-in-arms, his creation, and one of his women.
Loren pulled her hand in front of him, turned it over, and looked at her palm.
The calluses gleamed with a faint translucent sheen in the light.
He gently rubbed his thumb across her palm, feeling the contrast between the rough calluses and the smooth skin around them.
"Are you tired?" he asked.
The corners of Tifa's lips rose slightly.
"Not tired. How could making tea and baking cookies be tiring?"
"I don't mean today." Loren looked up, his gray eyes fixed on her.
"I mean these past few days, everything that happened during this time.
Thanos, the Infinity Stones, the snap...
Although you didn't take part in the fighting directly, you did a lot in the rear.
You took care of the manor, the other sisters, and me. You must be tired, right?"
Tifa looked at him, light flickering in her dark eyes.
It was not tears, but the warmth that naturally surfaced when someone had truly seen and understood her.
"Maybe a little," she said softly.
"But seeing you come back safely made all that exhaustion unimportant."
Loren held her hand without letting go.
The study fell quiet, filled only by birdsong outside the window and the distant sound of the river flowing.
Sunlight slowly shifted between them, moving from her face to his shoulder.
Then from his shoulder to the floor, like