Sebastian Ashford's POV
She doesn't knock.
She never does.
The door creaks open, and then she's there—barefoot, braid falling loose, hoodie five sizes too big (probably mine), cheeks a little flushed from the wind outside.
"Hi, Dad."
She says it like I haven't seen her in days.
Day left twenty minutes ago.
I look up from my book. "You miss him already?"
She walks over, climbs into my lap like it's still her throne, and shrugs. "Not really. I mean, yes. But mostly I missed you."
I raise a brow. "You were in the kitchen."
"Exactly. So far."
She buries her face in my neck and breathes in. "You smell like home."
I wrap an arm around her automatically. Her fingers start playing with the buttons on my shirt, and then she looks up at me with those impossible eyes—soft, golden, dangerous if you're not careful.
"You okay?" I ask.
She nods. "Just needed a recharge."
Then, softly, like a confession: "You're my safest person."
And just like that, I melt.
She pulls back slightly and starts kissing my face—cheek, jaw, forehead—between rambled updates.
"I painted Kai's boots again. This time with cherry blossoms."
"I think Day likes them."
"The cherry blossoms or the boots?"
"The boots. But probably me too."
She grins like it's the biggest secret in the world and leans against my chest again. "He caught me when I tripped. I pretended it wasn't a big deal but it totally was. Like, romantic comedy level. I had a main character moment."
"You are the main character," I mutter.
She gasps. "You do listen!"
I kiss the top of her head. "Only when you're not yelling."
"I never yell," she protests, scandalized. "I just talk excitedly with volume and emotion and soul."
I snort.
She boops my nose. "Love you."
"I know."
She wraps her arms tighter around me, whispering into my collar like a little kid. "You're not allowed to get old or die, by the way. I have abandonment issues and high expectations."
"I'll do my best."
"You better," she mumbles.
Then, after a beat: "You think Day's scared of you?"
"Absolutely."
She smiles sleepily. "Good."
And just like that, the storm is calm again.
My Sky.
My girl.
Still mine—even if her heart is starting to learn what it means to fall.