The next day, I was astonished to find the wound on my hand had completely healed.

The skin was smooth and unblemished.

So strange.

How was this possible?

"Luna!"

Several potted plants had appeared in the house at some point.

Under Asher's meticulous care, the place was slowly turning into a miniature jungle.

Now, he sat bathed in the light from the floor-to-ceiling window, surrounded by greenery, looking like a forest spirit who had wandered into the wrong century.

"Look — the moonflower sprouted!"

He held up the pot with both hands, practically vibrating with excitement. A tiny silver shoot had broken through the soil, its leaves shimmering with an iridescent sheen.

"Already?" I leaned closer. "The literature says moonflowers take weeks to germinate."

"I... may have stayed up all night giving it energy," he admitted, ears drooping guiltily.

"Asher!"

"I know, I know, you told me to rest. But I wanted it to bloom by your birthday!"

I sighed. "Your health matters more than a flower."

His ears drooped further. "Are you mad?"

"I'm worried. There's a difference."

He perked up immediately. "Worried means you care!"

This boy was going to be the death of me — but in the sweetest possible way.

The cut on my hand, though. That was genuinely puzzling. I'd sliced it on a beaker yesterday, deep enough to need a bandage. Now there wasn't even a scar.

"Asher, rabbit beastkin healing abilities... can they affect humans?"

He blinked. "In theory, yes. Our saliva has regenerative properties. But it's mostly for plants. For it to work on humans, there would need to be a strong emotional bond—"

He stopped mid-sentence, face turning crimson.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I... may have licked your hand while you were sleeping."

Silence.

"You licked my hand."

"Just the wound! It was bleeding and I could smell it and my instincts just—" He buried his face in his palms. "Please don't be disgusted. I'm sorry. I'll sleep in the garden."

I stared at him. This ridiculous, sweet, mortified rabbit boy who had healed my wound with his own body while I slept.

"Asher."

"I'm so sorry—"

"Thank you."

He peeked through his fingers. "...What?"

"Thank you for healing my hand. Just... maybe tell me next time?"

"You're not disgusted?"

"I've spent two years dealing with a wolf who once ate a raw steak in front of me to prove a point. You're fine."

He lowered his hands, ears slowly rising, a tentative smile blooming.

"So I don't have to sleep in the garden?"

"Absolutely not. It's November."

His relief was palpable. He settled back among his plants, the moonflower pot cradled in his lap, humming softly as he tended to each leaf.

I watched him from the kitchen, coffee in hand, and felt something settle in my chest.

Not the frantic, anxious longing I'd felt around Caleb. Not the constant fear of saying the wrong thing, being too much, not being enough.

This was quieter. Steadier.

Like roots finding soil.

My phone buzzed. A message from the Institute:

[Caleb Shaw has been transferred to Dr. Reid's supervision as of this morning. He has requested that his personal effects be forwarded to his new containment area. Among the items: 47 handmade vouchers.]

Forty-seven.

He'd kept every single one.

I set the phone face-down on the counter.

Across the room, Asher was whispering encouragement to a fern.

"You can do it, little one. Grow tall. Luna will be so proud."

I took a sip of coffee and smiled.

Some chapters close quietly. No slamming doors, no dramatic exits.

Just a girl, a rabbit, and a garden growing between them.