(Celia's POV)
The fire burned low, its flickering embers casting faint, restless shadows across the clearing. The night air carried the scent of charred wood and damp earth, wrapping around us like a silent embrace.
I was beside Jess, her body curled inward, as if trying to fold into herself. Her red hair fell over her face in uneven strands, hiding the expression I already knew was there. Shoulders trembling. Breath uneven. Silent grief, the kind that settled deep and refused to leave.
I already lowered myself beside her, my arms wrapped around her frame.. not too tight, not too loose. Just enough for her to know she wasn't alone.
I knew it wouldn't fix anything. But in times like these, comfort wasn't about fixing. It was about being there.
I ran my fingers slowly through her hair, feeling the slight dampness from the cold night air, the soft strands slipping between my fingers. The fire crackled, a whispering sound against the quiet.