They shine — not with noise, but with a calm light that steadies the air around them. Kind words, open hands, love that asks for nothing back. They call me theirs, and I believe — almost. Grateful, yes, like a prayer answered softly, but my heart still flinches at every good thing. How do you trust a warmth that feels too gentle to keep? They lift me higher, yet I shrink, afraid I’ll fall short of their grace. I love them — so much it aches — but some part of me still stands at the edge, watching, wondering if I belong to this kind of light.