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ALL OF THESE STARS (Will Guide Us Home)
Rumi had a plan.
She’d promised the girls she did.
Zoey had been giving her the cold shoulder for days now, and Mira wasn’t much better. Her tone clipped and professional, like she was dealing with a brand manager instead of her lover.
Rumi couldn’t blame them.
It had been almost a year since they officially became lovers. A year and a half since she and Celine made amends, choosing to rebuild the bond they’d lost when Rumi was younger. Two years since the chaotic Idol Awards, when her secret was broadcast to the world.
And when she first began to understand what love truly meant.
She had come a long way since then.
With Mira and Zoey, she’d discovered the warmth of being known. Of being courted patiently, of love that burned steady instead of fast and fleeting like her whirlwind two-week fling with Jinu. With Mira and Zoey, she felt safe. She’d leapt into their arms and been caught.
But safety didn’t excuse neglect.
Lately, she had been consumed by comeback preparations, brand meetings, calls with streaming platforms, endless planning sessions with Bobby. And in the process, she had been losing time for her girlfriends. Now, both stood at their limits.
Their fight a few nights ago replayed in her mind like a wound that refused to close.
Zoey’s voice, sharp and hurt: “Do you think we’re so incapable of helping you with HUNTR/X projects?!”
Mira’s sigh, heavy with disappointment: “You can’t blame us for feeling hurt, Rumi. You missed our anniversary… for a meeting with stockholders.”
Still, despite the silence that followed, she knew they loved her. They still curled against her at night. Zoey still nuzzled her neck. Mira still spooned her from behind. But the distance was there, and it was driving Rumi mad. They had forgiven her but they needed to see her try. To make it up to them.
So, she made a plan.
Reservations at one of Seoul’s finest restaurants where glass windows overlooked the glittering skyline. She imagined them dressing to their hearts’ content, sipping wine, sharing overpriced steaks, ending the night with a slow dance. Or maybe a goofy one, like in La La Land. A night just for them.
But the plan fell apart the moment the demons arrived.
The restaurant owner had been one in disguise. Soon, waiters, bartenders, even diners revealed their true forms.
Zoey, stunning in a turquoise backless dress, growled as she snapped shin kicks into skulls. Mira’s woldo flashed in graceful arcs, precise and lethal, her eyes burning with fury.
And Rumi?
She was stabbing every demon too hard. Her tuxedo hung in tatters as claws and horns burst free. Not for protection, but from raw rage. How dare they? How dare these demons ruin the night she had poured so much hope into?
“Rumi! Baby! He’s gone! You’re stabbing the floor now!”
Mira’s voice pulled her back. Blinking, Rumi realized the fight was over. The demons were dust, the tiles beneath her cracked from her frenzy. Embarrassment prickled under her skin. She gripped onto her sword too tight as she stared down at her ruined tux shoes, frustration pressing heavy against her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “The night’s ruined.”
“Who says it is?”
Rumi’s head snapped up. Zoey, who had barely spoken to her all morning, was grinning. Eyes sparkling. “We appreciate the gesture, Ruru. Sure, the demons ruined dinner. But the night’s still young, and Seoul’s still alive.”
“Yeah.” Mira stepped closer, cupping Rumi’s face, her touch gentle and grounding. “We see you trying. That’s what matters. This doesn’t ruin anything.”
Something in Rumi’s chest fluttered: warm, alive, hopeful. Her mind raced. The night wasn’t over. She could still turn it around. She just needed the right idea.
And then it struck her.
A wide smile spread across her face as she looked at the women she loved.
“I know just the place.”
Nanji Hangang Park at night was its own kind of magic.
The chaos at the restaurant felt like another lifetime as Rumi, Mira, and Zoey sat cross-legged at a low picnic table, steam rising from bowls of instant noodles. Beyond them, the Han River stretched wide and dark, catching shards of light from the city. The hum of Seoul carried across the banks. Traffic crawling along bridges, faint music from cyclists’ speakers, the chatter of late-night wanderers.
It was also a reminder. A reminder of what they had saved during the Idol Awards. Hundreds of lives diverted from Gwi-Ma’s fire.
Tonight, though, it was just them. No makeup, no stage lights, no expectations. Rumi in an oversized hoodie and joggers. Mira in a panda-print sweatshirt and black leggings. Zoey in one of Rumi’s loose shirts knotted at the waist, gray sweatpants hanging low on her hips. Clothes they had stashed in the car “for safety purposes.” Which, in truth, meant for moments like this: when they just wanted to be them.
The noodles weren’t elegant steaks or fine wine, but the spicy broth was perfect against the summer night breeze. Rumi slurped too fast, hissing when her tongue burned. Mira smirked, lifting her chopsticks with the same practiced grace she used when wielding her woldo. Zoey leaned across the table with mischief in her eyes, chopsticks aimed at Rumi’s bowl.
“Hey! Get your own!” Rumi yelped, shielding her noodles like they were gold.
“You’re the one who said sharing is caring,” Zoey shot back, grinning as her chopsticks jabbed playfully.
Mira chuckled, shaking her head at the bickering. But her gaze lingered, warm and steady. The silence and cold shoulders of the past week had melted away into the night air, replaced with laughter, broth, and the unshakable comfort of being together.
Cicadas hummed in the grass. Somewhere, a couple strummed a guitar by the water. Seoul glowed on, alive and buzzing. But within their little circle of steam and lantern light, the world was quiet and theirs alone.
Later, they shifted closer to the riverbank, watching the ripples dance in the current.
“I’m sorry,” Rumi muttered, voice low, heavy with regret. “For forgetting our anniversary. For not giving you time…”
Silence followed, until Zoey leaned into her shoulder, intertwining their fingers. Mira draped an arm over them both, pulling the three of them close.
“It’s okay, Rumi. We know you didn’t mean it,” Zoey murmured, playing with her fingers.
Rumi frowned. “It’s still unfair to you both. I just wish I had more time. Just cuddling, snuggling, being kissed, pampered, cared for. Less responsibility. More of… this.”
The three of them laughed softly. Mira leaned in, pressing quick kisses against Rumi’s cheek.
“Hey!” Rumi squeaked, scandalized.
“Well, you asked for it.” Mira planted another kiss.
“Someone might see!” Rumi hissed, looking around.
Zoey stole a kiss from her lips. “Who cares? Time the world knew you’re ours anyway.” Her giggle was cut short by Mira peppering Rumi’s neck with butterfly kisses.
Rumi squirmed, caught between laughter and surrender, pampered and adored exactly as she wished.
None of them noticed the faint glow at Rumi’s ankle. A sigil left behind by the last demon before it died. Its spell curled like smoke into her skin, unseen, a chain waiting to tighten. A curse meant to strip her powers. A trap laid for the next hunt.
When Mira woke, Zoey was curled against her side, her face buried in Mira's shoulder. Rumi was nowhere in sight.
She didn’t think much of it. Probably in the bathroom, Mira reasoned, after all the food they’d inhaled last night. With a small smile, she stroked Zoey’s hair, watching the younger girl snore softly. Zoey responded by burrowing even closer, clinging like a cat. Mira’s chest warmed at the sight. Zoey’s clinginess in sleep was one of the little things both she and Rumi secretly adored.
She was so caught up in the moment that she almost missed it. A tuft of purple hair, a pair of wide eyes, trembling, peeking from the edge of the bed.
Mira froze.
The girl resembled Rumi. Her eyes, her lips, that cute little nose. Even the pajamas were familiar: Rumi’s oversized Choo Choo shirt, now draped like a dress over a much smaller frame.
But this wasn’t Rumi.
This was… a child.
“What the-”
“Are you going to hurt me?” the small voice quavered. “Who are you two?”
Mira bolted upright, heart pounding. She stared at the child, mind scrambling for sense. Rumi’s features. Rumi’s clothes. But much too young.
Beside her, Zoey grumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Wha… what’s happenin’?”
“Z-Zoey.” Mira shook her shoulder, urgent. “Open your eyes.”
Zoey cracked them open, squinting blearily at the sight in front of the bed. A child. Purple hair. Familiar eyes.
Her head dropped back to the pillow. “It’s Rumi as a kid.”
And then-
Her brain caught up. Zoey shot upright so fast the blanket tangled around her. She leaned over the bed, eyes wide. “Rumi?!”
The child flinched, scooting back on the floor, tears glistening in her eyes. “How… how do you know me? Are you gonna hurt me too? Where’s my mommy? Where’s Momma Celine?”
Mira’s mouth went dry.
Zoey’s breath hitched.
Neither of them knew if they were awake or caught in one of those twisted nightmares hunters sometimes suffered. But the fear in the little girl’s voice, the tears streaking her face…
Those were too real to dismiss.
“Tiger, could you please tell me why you’re crying?”
“B-Because, Momma… I don’t know who these people are!”
“They’re my friends, my little tiger. Good ones. You can trust them.”
“B-But I want you here…”
“Don’t worry, my little tiger. Mommy’s already packing her things. But the airplane can’t go zoom-zoom to you right away.”
“Why?” Rumi’s cries filled the room, raw and aching. “I want you here now!”
A ripple passed through the golden honmoon.
Mira crouched just outside the bedroom, watching as little Rumi clung to the phone while sobbing. On the screen, Celine’s face filled the frame, her voice gentle despite the distance. Mira and Zoey had called her in a panic, hoping she would know how to soothe the girl’s sudden fear.
“She’s… what ?” Celine had blurted at first, startled.
“Like I said,” Mira sighed, tired of repeating herself. She tilted the phone so Celine could see: the small, purple-haired girl curled miserably on the bed, while Zoey hovered nearby. Trying and failing to coax a smile out of her. “We were just out on a date. She woke up like this.”
“Bring the camera closer.”
Mira obeyed. Celine’s expression softened into recognition as she pointed. “There. On her ankle. A demon’s sigil. They prey on fears… and Rumi’s is simple. She’s terrified of being powerless, like a child. Of losing everything she’s worked for, everyone she loves.”
Mira’s chest tightened. “So that’s what this is?”
Celine nodded faintly. “Yes. But don’t worry. It’s only a low-level curse. It will fade in time. Likely in a day or two.”
Mira huffed, watching Zoey resort to silly hand gestures. Her face scrunched in determination. “So what you’re saying is… we’re babysitting our girlfriend for forty-eight hours.”
A laugh bubbled through the phone. Warm. Fond. “Think of it as getting to know her in a way you haven’t before. A side of her I love very, very much.”
Then softer, almost to herself: “I’m already packing. She’ll want me nearby… but you both should learn to reach her, too.”
Mira swallowed, feeling the weight of that. She had no real experience with children. Zoey didn’t either. Though she was at least giving it her all, flailing about with stories and funny voices.
“Now,” Celine’s voice shifted, gentle and coaxing, “may I please see my baby tiger?”
“Baby tiger?” Mira murmured, curious.
And from her corner, she watched. Celine’s voice softened into coos and quiet reassurances, wrapping Rumi in comfort even through a screen. The little girl’s sobs eased to hiccups, her grip on the phone loosening ever so slightly.
In the kitchen, Zoey clattered about with pots and pans, determined to make something simple and warm for their suddenly much-younger partner. And Mira was watching, listening, heart aching, and realized… how much love filled even this strange, fragile moment.
And then it struck Mira.
This was why Rumi had given Celine another chance, despite everything. Despite the scars, the mistakes, the hurt she carried from before. Because even now, even reduced to the fears of a child. Rumi still looked at Celine with love. Pure, unquestioning love.
For Rumi, it wasn’t about perfection. It never had been. She had seen her adoptive mother try, again and again, in the only ways she knew how. And maybe she had failed, maybe she had hurt the older Rumi with those flaws… but she had tried.
And Rumi remembered that.
Just as this was her first time living, it had been Celine’s first time learning to be a mother. Messy, imperfect, sometimes painful. But to little Rumi, none of that mattered.
Right now, in her small trembling hands, the phone glowed with Celine’s face. And her teary eyes softened as she gazed at her mother. Like Celine was the only safe place in the world.
“Miss Mira?”
The small voice tugged Mira out of her thoughts. She startled, then noticed Rumi clutching the phone in both tiny hands. Looking up at her with wide, uncertain eyes.
“What is it, Rumi?” Mira asked softly.
“Momma says I can trust you both…” Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “Is that true?”
Mira’s chest tightened. This wasn’t the confident, razor-sharp Rumi she knew. This was a child searching desperately for safety. “Of course, darling,” Mira said with as much warmth as she could. “We won’t ever hurt you. Promise.”
Rumi gave a small nod, as if deciding to believe her, and turned toward Zoey. Her gaze landed on the counter, and her whole face lit up at the sight of food.
Zoey, watching closely, caught the look and smiled. “Are you hungry, Rumi? Do you want to eat?”
Rumi hesitated, chewing her lip. As though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed. Then she whispered, “Am… hungry.”
Mira held out her hand. “Come here, sweetheart.”
After a beat of reluctance, Rumi placed her small hand in Mira’s. Her grip was tentative at first, but she let Mira guide her toward the kitchen. Once they reached the island, Mira crouched, voice turning playful.
“Up, up, and away!” She scooped Rumi into her arms, lifting her so she could see the spread.
The child’s eyes widened. Gimbap neatly stacked, bowls of steaming ramen, golden chicken. So much more than she could have expected.
“Yummy!” she gasped. She turned to Zoey, cheeks pink with shyness. “Thank you, Miss Zoey… for cooking all this for me.”
Zoey froze, as if struck by lightning. Mira bit back a laugh. She knew that look. It was Zoey’s I’m internally dying from cuteness face, the one she wore during panda and kitten videos.
“Where would you like to eat, tiger?” Mira asked, borrowing Celine’s pet name.
Rumi looked around the apartment, hesitating again. At last, she pointed toward the white couch by the TV. “Can we eat there? Momma says we shouldn’t… she says I won’t enjoy my food if I do.”
Zoey gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “How dare she! Couch meals are the best kind of meals. Which means… we need to prove it right now! For little Rumi’s sake!”
Mira giggled, adjusting her hold on the small girl. “Well, that settles it. Couch time!”
Rumi’s smile broke through the lingering tears on her cheeks, her small body relaxing against Mira’s. And yet Mira could feel it: how tightly she clung to them both, how desperately she wanted to believe she was safe here.
It was adorable. But underneath the sweetness lay something fragile. Rumi’s joy shone all the brighter because it was edged with fear. The fear of being powerless, of not having control. The fear of needing someone else.
And right now, Mira thought, we have to be enough.
“What’s that, unnie?” Rumi pointed at the bright orange dish sitting at the corner of the coffee table.
“That’s tteokbokki, baby,” Zoey explained warmly, lifting one piece with her chopsticks. “Do you want to try? It’s a little spicy.”
Rumi nodded eagerly. Zoey fed her a bite, and her eyes lit up at once as she chewed.
“Yumyum!” she giggled, leaning back against Mira’s chest. The little girl was perched comfortably between Mira’s legs. Mira munched on chicken, looking far too amused.
Curiosity sparked again as Rumi watched Mira dip a California roll into a dab of wasabi. Her stare was intense, expectant.
“Do you want to try, tiger?” Mira smirked.
Rumi nodded with the same determination she’d shown with Zoey’s food.
“Oh, Mira, I don’t think-” Zoey started, but Mira waved her off and popped the roll into Rumi’s mouth.
At first, Rumi chewed with her usual bright energy. But then her smile faltered. A flush crept into her cheeks, her little hands curling against her sides. She looked at Zoey with wide, panicked eyes. Then bolted upright and flung herself into Zoey’s arms.
Zoey caught her easily, soothing her at once. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay.” She reached for the milk she’d set nearby, helping Rumi sip while stroking her back. “See? All better. You’re safe.”
Across from them, Mira chuckled far too loudly. “Come on, Tiger, it wasn’t that bad.”
She reached out a hand but Rumi only clutched Zoey tighter. Pressing her damp face into her shirt.
“Mean! Mean!” she wailed, hiccupping between little sobs.
Zoey’s eyes narrowed at Mira over Rumi’s shoulder: a sharp reprimand. Mira, of course, just laughed, though her amusement carried a pang beneath it.
Because the truth was clear in the way Rumi clung so desperately to Zoey’s warmth. Beneath the childish tantrum, beneath the playful scene, was something rawer: the simple, unshakable need for someone safe to hold onto.
“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, little tiger.” Mira leaned down, her voice laced with exaggerated cuteness, pulling out her best aegyo. “Could the little tiger forgive me if I buy her ice cream?”
Rumi sniffled, her cheeks still damp. “Ice cream?”
“Yes, ice cream,” Mira said softly. “Spicy foods are cured with sweet ones, right? What does the little tiger want?”
Rumi blinked, caught between her tears and curiosity. Slowly, she turned her gaze toward Zoey, as if asking without words: Is this safe?
Zoey’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. She bent close to Rumi’s ear and whispered something conspiratorial, her tone playful and teasing.
Rumi’s eyes widened, as though they were sharing the greatest secret in the world. She nodded solemnly, then peeked back at Mira with shy determination. Her little hands twisted in Zoey’s shirt as she made her request. Hesitant, but hopeful.
Mira mumbled under her breath as she fumbled with the door, arms full of bags. Inside were seven different flavors of gelato because of course the little tiger couldn’t choose just one. She also bought sheets of stickers she thought Rumi and Zoey could play with. She’d even picked up some body paint for face art, thanks to Zoey’s idea of turning it into a quiz game since older Rumi loved games like that.
Slipping quietly into the apartment, Mira adjusted the bags against her hip. She froze when she heard voices from the living room.
“Miss Mira is a bit scary and mean…” Rumi’s small voice drifted out, uncertain but honest.
Mira’s chest pinched. Scary and mean? She hadn’t meant to upset her. The wasabi had been just a playful joke… hadn’t it?
“She is a bit scary and mean,” Zoey teased lightly, running her fingers through Rumi’s unbraided hair, “and definitely playful. But she means no harm, sweetheart. That’s just how she was raised. To show love through playing around, making laughter instead of stress.”
Rumi frowned, her little lips puckering. “But the wasabi wasn’t funny…”
Zoey chuckled, warm and easy. “I’m glad our little tiger cub knows that. You should tell Miss Mira that if she ever does it again, you’ll withhold your cheek kisses from her for a whole year!”
Mira nearly dropped the bags right there. A year? She almost balked at the very thought.
But then, she caught sight of them on the couch. Zoey brushing Rumi’s hair with such tenderness, the little girl leaning into her touch as though she’d found the safest place in the worl. Mira’s irritation melted into something else.
Something softer. Something that made her ache.
Mira swallowed her pride, straightened her shoulders, and stepped into the living room.
“Well,” she said, setting the bags down with an exaggerated sigh, “it’s a good thing I came prepared to earn back my cheek kisses.”
Rumi startled, wide-eyed, then glanced at the bags. Her nose twitched in curiosity. Mira knelt and began pulling out the loot: seven colorful cups of gelato, sheets of glittery stickers, and little tubs of face paint.
“Ice cream!” Rumi gasped, her small voice filled with awe. She wriggled against Zoey’s side, eyes flicking back and forth as if to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“Yes, ice cream,” Mira said softly. She looked directly at the little girl, guilt tugging at her chest. “I’m sorry if I scared you earlier, tiger. I was trying to make you laugh… but I see now it wasn’t funny.”
Rumi hesitated, chewing on her lip. For a moment, Mira feared she’d turn away again. But instead, she slid off the couch, padding closer with small, cautious steps.
“Can… can I still eat the ice cream?” she whispered.
Mira chuckled, a little breathless with relief, and held out a spoon. “That’s the whole point, sweetheart.”
Rumi took it eagerly, scooping up a bite of strawberry gelato. Her giggle bubbled out between licks. “Yumyum!”
Zoey smirked knowingly from the couch, mouthing cheek kisses saved. for now.
Mira shot her a playful glare, but her attention quickly softened back to the small girl beside her, who was already digging into another flavor. Watching her smile through the remnants of dried tears.
Mira thought: I’d buy her every ice cream in the world if it meant she never looked at me with fear again.
The coffee table had been cleared away. It was now replaced with cards, paints, and sheets of star stickers. Zoey sat cross-legged on the rug across from Rumi. She was now perched between Mira’s legs, leaning back against her chest.
“Okay, little tiger,” Zoey announced, holding up a card dramatically. “What’s the capital of Japan?”
Rumi tilted her head, lips pursed. “Momma performed here before with my mommy… Hmm… To…kyo?”
Zoey gasped as though Rumi had just discovered fire. “Correct! Brilliant!”
She peeled off a glittery yellow star sticker and pressed it to Rumi’s arm. “Another star for our champion!”
Rumi giggled, the sound bubbling out of her chest. She leaned closer to Mira, who gave her an approving squeeze.
The quizbee went on and on and on until the sun has set. Little Rumi has found herself enjoying with the little trivias. Apparently, this was something she has done while waiting for Celine during meetings. She would read and read and read in the corner while her adoptive mother worked.
“What’s three plus three?”
“Six!”
“Correct! A star!”
“What sound does a cow make?”
“Moo!”
“Correct again! You’re unstoppable!”
Each right answer earned Rumi another star, until her little arm was nearly covered. She wriggled with delight, showing them off like trophies.
But then, her smile faltered just slightly.
“Um…” she whispered, eyes downcast. “Can I… put them on my patterns instead? So they don’t show? Momma doesn’t like when people see them…”
Mira’s arms tightened around her. Zoey leaned forward, brushing Rumi’s cheek gently with her thumb. Both of them knew this part of Rumi really well. They know of her insecurities especially after its reveal during the idol awards. All her life, her mother has made her hide a part of her as if it was something to be ashamed of.
Rumi’s recovery after wasn’t easy especially since she couldn’t fully disclose to her therapist about the entire context of the situation. With the need to hide the demon hunting and her patterns and all so she had to speak in between lines. Her girlfriends has always been supportive but the journey was rought.
She has gone through heaven and hell to heal from it, and now…
Now, Mira just feels like Rumi’s back at square one. Her entire healing journey thrown away for nothing.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Zoey said softly. “There’s nothing wrong with your patterns. They’re a part of you. They make you you.”
Zoey gingerly picked up several paints packed in the corner of the table. Rumi watched with great curiosity on what she was doing. Zoey picked up the body paint, dipped her brush into gold. The rapper then began tracing swirls and flowers around the markings.
“See? We’ll make them even prettier.”
Mira grinned, reaching for another brush. Dipping it in pink, she swiped a clean stroke on her forearm.
“She’s right. And if our little tiger has patterns, then her unnies should too.” She rolled up her sleeve and began painting clumsy imitations of Rumi’s markings on her own arm.
Zoey followed, letting Rumi help decorate hers. Soon all three of them were covered in paint and stickers. Some neat, most chaotic, all filled with laughter.
“Okay!” Zoey declared. “Next question. What’s the capital of Korea?”
Rumi furrowed her brow. “…Seoul?”
Zoey clapped. “Perfect! Another star!”
Rumi frowned playfully. “You’re giving me the easy questions now!”
“It wasn’t easy right, Mira?” Zoey grinned.
Mira giggled before lying, “I thought Busan was the capital!”
“No way!” Rumi giggled. “You’re not serious, Miss Mira!”
“I am!”
Rumi peeled the sticker herself this time and proudly pressed it over one of the golden designs on her arm. Her patterns shimmered with both defiance and joy.
The game stretched on. Questions about animals, colors, little riddles Mira invented on the spot. Every victory was met with a cheer, every wrong answer with exaggerated groans and laughter. Mira even pretended to sulk when Rumi beat her to answering a question.
“Hey! You’re too fast!” Mira cried.
“Tiger wins again!” Zoey declared, sticking another star on Rumi’s nose. Making her squeal.
By the time the quiz cards were forgotten, their arms were covered in a chaotic mix of stars and paint. Zoey’s skin glittered like a night sky, Rumi’s markings gleamed with pride instead of shame, and Mira’s sleeve was rolled up, her arm scribbled in childish designs.
Mira knows they three would have to take a long bath to take all of the residue in their bodies.
It was then Rumi paused, noticing. Zoey’s arm was full of stars. Her own was shining with them. But Mira’s, aside from the messy paint, had none.
Rumi hesitated before looking over at the sticker spread in front of her. Or what was left of it. Then, she carefully peeled off the biggest, brightest star sticker she could find. She toddled over and pressed it right onto Mira’s bicep with both hands.
Mira blinked. “What’s this for?”
Zoey watched closely, curious at the mini interaction.
Rumi’s cheeks turned pink as she mumbled, “F-for being the prettiest unnie…”
Zoey burst into laughter, nearly falling over. “Oh my god! She’s so smooth!”
Mira’s breath caught for a moment. She recovered quickly, scooping Rumi into her arms and kissing the top of her head. “Smooth, sweet, and way too clever. Guess I’ll have to treasure this star forever, then.”
Rumi giggled, her tiny hands smudging more paint across Mira’s shirt. All three of them dissolved into laughter once again. Their living room a mess of stickers, brushes, and the kind of joy that left Mira’s chest aching in the best way.
The laughter of earlier had faded into quiet. The stickers, the stars, the paint, all washed away. Leaving only the faint warmth of the memory behind. Mira and Zoey had carried a drowsy Rumi into the bedroom. She helped her change into a soft pajama set, and tucked her under the blankets. She’d fallen asleep almost instantly, cheeks still rosy from all the excitement.
That was when the door creaked, and Celine entered. Her steps were careful, almost uncertain, as if she were afraid to break the fragile peace of the room.
Mira and Zoey rose from where they’d been lingering near the bed. “She’s already asleep,” Zoey whispered.
Celine hesitated. “Can I… see her? Just like this? Please.”
Mira’s eyes narrowed slightly, protective even in her silence. But then she gave a short nod. “We’re watching.”
Mira, despite being protective over her girlfriend after knowing what Celine has done to her over the years, knew that she was still a mother. Above all, she was also someone who loved Rumi too.
Who was she to deny Rumi love when all her life she believed she wasn’t worthy of it because of her nature?
Celine moved closer, kneeling by the side of the bed. Her eyes softened the moment they landed on Rumi.
Her little Rumi, her little tiger.
Her own daughter.
Her little form curled under the blanket, hair damp from her bath, her breathing steady and deep. For a long while, Celine could only stare. Then she reached out and stroked her daughter’s hair back from her face, her fingers trembling.
The weight of years pressed down on her chest. All the moments she had tried, all the moments she had failed. All the ways she’d loved Rumi, and the ways she had hurt her without meaning to.
“How did I grow up to be someone who hurt you so much?” she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Sobs tore through Celine, her tears spilling freely as she gazed at the little one she had once sworn to protect. Her heart felt as if it were breaking all over again. How could she bear it? The knowledge that she had wounded Rumi so deeply that her grown daughter once believed death, even by Celine’s own hand, would be kinder than living with that pain?
The memory burned. By that tree, when Rumi had offered her the sword. She couldn’t even lift it. She couldn’t touch it. Because no matter how much she hated demons, no matter how much she regretted not saving Mi Yeong sooner…
This was still her child. Her baby girl. The one she had raised, loved in all her flawed, stumbling ways.
And now, looking at the small version of Rumi asleep before her, Celine’s chest ached with the unbearable truth: she had broken a promise once. She would not, could not, ever do so again.
At that, Rumi stirred, blinking awake. Her small eyes focused blearily on Celine. “…Momma? Why is Momma crying?”
Celine quickly shook her head, brushing her face with the back of her hand. “It’s nothing, baby. Just worried that someone might hurt you.”
Rumi reached up, still half-asleep. With her little fingers, she touched her mother’s cheek with a tiny palm. She wiped the tears away as best she could. “I know Momma will come and kiss the booboos away.”
The words tore through her. That memory, by the old tree, when she had refused to hurt Rumi but realized too late. She had already been the cause of her pain. Burned in her chest. The regret she carried, the apologies whispered into the dirt of that place, all of it came back at once.
Her lips trembled. She bent forward, pressing a desperate kiss to Rumi’s forehead. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll kiss the booboos away. Forever.”
Rumi’s eyes fluttered closed again, soothed, and she nestled into Celine’s arms. Celine held her, rocking gently as if she were still a baby. Then lay beside her and curled protectively around her daughter.
By the time Mira and Zoey peeked in again, the two were asleep together. Mother and child wrapped in fragile peace.
And the two lovers stood by them, like protectors of their own curated happiness.
Morning light streamed through the curtains, soft and golden. Rumi blinked awake slowly, her body heavy with warmth. It took her only a moment to realize she was no longer small. Her adult form had returned. Her limbs fitting naturally into the space again.
But what caught her breath wasn’t that. It was where she was.
Her head rested against Celine’s chest, the familiar heartbeat steady under her ear. One of Celine’s arms was wrapped tightly around her, even in sleep. As if she was afraid to let go. Behind her, Mira had draped an arm across her waist, while Zoey’s hand rested lightly at her back, fingers twitching with the dreams she was lost in.
Rumi lay there, the only one awake, cocooned in their warmth. And for a moment she didn’t move.
Correction: She didn’t want to move.
Her eyes drifted to Celine. She remembered it all: how her child self had looked up at her adoptive mother with unshaken trust. With love so simple it didn’t question, didn’t hesitate.
Momma will kiss the booboos away.
It stung, a little. Because the adult her who had been the one who had carried scars, who had tasted betrayal and pain, did not give that trust so easily. Forgiveness had been slower, harder, something she had wrestled with again and again.
But she also remembered last night. The way little her had leaned into Celine’s arms without fear. The way Celine had cried, whispering regrets into her hair. The way she kissed her forehead as if trying to seal a promise.
The way she took no time trusting two complete strangers into coaxing her out of her cocoon. Of Zoey and Mira’s attempts to make her smile and safe, all successful because she was taken care of properly.
And now, feeling Celine’s hold around her even as she slept, Rumi realized something. That part of her, the part that trusted so fiercely, so unconditionally, wasn’t gone.
It was still inside her. It had always been.
It was just out of reach… for a while.
A soft smile curved her lips. She burrowed closer into Celine’s embrace, letting herself be held like she had as a child. Not because she had forgotten the pain, but because she knew the love was real, too.
Her hand lifted, brushing lightly over Mira’s arm, then Zoey’s. With all of them around her, the ache in her chest softened into something else. Something whole.
For the first time in a long time, Rumi allowed herself the simplest thing.
She let herself be safe.