It's A Lie

She told herself she didn't need anyone. That the darkness she wore like a second skin was enough to keep her safe. But tonight, beneath the weight of shadows and silence, her heart begged for something else.

The girl who moved like smoke through the cracks of the world-knives on her thighs, a mission in her eyes-was tired. Not from the climb over walls or the silence of broken guards, but from the endless chase of memories she could never outrun.

He found her there-between the blood and breath of another perfect infiltration, standing still like she'd forgotten what she came for. His voice, soft through the earpiece, cracked the cold around her.

"Come back," he said. "You don't have to keep running."

But she didn't answer.

Because it wasn't just about running. It was about surviving a war she never chose. It was about the weight of everything she never said. And maybe... maybe wanting a place to rest.

Could he be that place?
Could she let him be her home, when all she's ever known is escape?

She touched her chest, where the ache lived, and whispered into the night:

"It's a lie... but please-hug me like I'm home."