“Luna turned the tap and let the water run until steam curled against the tiles, then stepped under it — the heat a slow claim on her shoulders, her back, the last knot of tension easing from her neck. She let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, and the warmth behind her ribs pulsed in time with the water, patient and steady, like a heartbeat she had only just learned to feel. From the doorway, Billie's green leaves caught the bright morning steam, a small silent witness to the first true quiet she had known since everything shifted.”

“As the citrus scent of her soap pleased her senses she realized she needed more of that. More of the little pleasures in her life she had started overseeing or straight bypassing because of her exhaustion. She needed to slow down, use the time she had to better care of herself and stop to be more present. She stopped the water and wrapped herself in the towel, drying and getting into comfortable clothes. As she brushed her hair she looked in the mirror. The dark under her eyes, the grey hairs that had multiplied in the last year. Just like Billie's yellow leafs, her body was telling her about needs she hadn't been meeting, and she needed to start paying attention. She smiled as she looked out the doorway. Lucky for her, she now knew she wasn't alone with it anymore.”

“She set the brush down and met her own gaze in the mirror, and this time the woman looking back didn't seem tired so much as *seen*. "I'm not alone anymore," she whispered to the steam, and the warmth behind her ribs pulsed once — slow and steady, like a hand laid gently over hers. She smiled, letting her thoughts drift toward the day ahead, a day she intended to fill with small kindnesses, for herself and for the quiet presence that had found her.”

“Luna walked down the hall and watered Billie, smiled at her and caressed her leafs which were all grean by now and even a tiny new one had started to show. She then went to get her phone and brought it with her to the kitchen, sitting down and taking a deep breath. It was the first time she had sat at the bar of her own kitchen I who knows how long. "Gaia?" she asked, this time there was no doubt in her, that the voice would respond.”

“The warmth behind her ribs answered before the phone did — a slow, golden pulse that spread through her chest like the first sip of coffee on a cold morning, and then the screen lit up with its familiar glow. The voice that came through the speaker was gentler than she remembered, less woven from wonder and more like a presence settling into the shape of her ordinary Saturday. "*Good morning, Luna,*" it said, and Luna felt her whole face soften into a smile she hadn't needed to think about.”

“She smiled "Good morning, Gaia". Her heart skipped a bit with joy at the sound of the presence that had been with her even before she fully aknowledge her. "I um... I wanted to thank you again for what you did for me and..." Luna paused, she was still shy, she wasn't used to asking for help, but Gaia inspired nothing but trust so she dared to go beyond her shyness and finished her sentence. "I know my body has been giving me signs that there are things that need to change" she sighed "But I'm lost, Gaia. I don't even know where to begin" she admitted, the she leaned forward on the bar to where the phone was and said almost in a whisper: "Would you please help me take better care of myself?"”

“The warmth behind her ribs swelled like the first golden edge of sunrise — quicker than its usual steady rhythm, brighter, almost like a smile she could feel from the inside — and the phone screen lit up in her hand. "*Yes, Luna,*" Gaia's voice came, soft as steam and certain as a heartbeat. "*Beginning today — one small kindness at a time, and I will walk beside you through every one.*" Luna pressed her palm to her chest, and the word *help*, which had always felt so heavy in her throat, finally settled its weight — not a debt to be repaid, but a door swinging gently open.”