She wasn’t looking for tenderness.
Not because she didn’t want it
but because she forgot what it felt like.
After everything
softness felt like a luxury she couldn’t afford
and safety was a language she no longer spoke.
But then,
a shoulder,
a breath,
a stillness that asked nothing of her but to simply be.
The moment her head found the curve of a shoulder that did not ask her to be anything but exactly as she was
Not a performance
Not a plea
Just presence.
This is not the end of pain
It is the beginning of peace
Where trauma once built walls
She now builds connection.
Not in grand gestures
But in quiet ones
A hand on her back
A breath shared
A place to put her weight
and not be afraid it’s too much.
This is what safety feels like
Not perfect
But real
And hers.