The car stops.
I'm still staring at my hands when the door opens, cool evening air replacing the sealed quiet of the backseat. Bael steps out first.
Then his hand appears in the gap.
Open. Waiting.
I look at it for a second longer than I should before taking it.
His fingers close around mine immediately, warm and certain, and he guides me out of the car with the same unhurried composure he does everything. Like holding my hand is something he has always done and simply chose not to until now.
I don't say anything yet.
We walk through the entrance, past Mrs. Wen who appears briefly in the hallway, takes one look at us, and somehow finds something urgent to attend to in a completely different part of the house. The door closes behind us.
Bael keeps walking.
Still holding my hand.
