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“Watch out for Rory,” the girl finished with a solemn nod. “I will.”

After they disappeared down the corridor with Lesha, Kara followed Doctor Sarn to the examination rooms. Work would help pass the hours until Thraxar returned. It always did.

The day stretched endlessly.By mid-afternoon, she had treated a farmer’s crushed finger, diagnosed a peculiar rash on aTreveloran child, and assisted Doctor Sarn with a difficult birthing for one of the settlement’s newer species.

“You have remarkable instincts,” Doctor Sarn commented as they sterilized the equipment afterward. “Most practitioners take years to develop such adaptability across species.”

She shrugged. “When you have limited supplies and equipment, you learn to focus on fundamentals. Biology differs, but trauma follows patterns.”

“Still, your skill is exceptional.” The doctor’s middle eyes narrowed slightly—her expression of curiosity. “The settlement would benefit greatly if you decided to stay permanently.”

“We’re staying,” she said, the certainty in her voice surprising even herself.

Doctor Sarn’s mandibles clicked in approval. “Excellent. I’ll speak to the council about formalizing your position.”

The rest of the shift passed in a blur of routine procedures and patient consultations. When the final hour approached, she found herself checking the clock with increasing frequency.

“Go,” Doctor Sarn said finally, her tone amused. “Your family needs you more than we do right now.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She collected the children from the recreation room where Rory was deeply engaged with a three-dimensional puzzle and Talia was reading to a group of younger children.

“Time to go home,” she said, the words still tasting sweet on her tongue.

The walk back seemed both too long and too short. Anticipation quickened her steps, but uncertainty slowed her heart. What if something had gone wrong? What if the signal had been intercepted? What if?—

“Look!” Talia suddenly shouted, pointing ahead.

A familiar silhouette stood at their garden gate. Tall, broad-shouldered, unmistakable even at a distance.

Rory broke into a run first, his usual careful movements abandoned in rare spontaneity. Talia followed a heartbeat later.

She watched as Thraxar dropped to one knee, gathering both children against him. His tail curled protectively around them, and even from a distance, she could see the tension drain from his powerful frame.

He was home. He was safe.

She approached more slowly, drinking in the sight of him. When he looked up and their eyes met, the world around them seemed to fade away. There was only Thraxar, his black eyes reflecting the golden light of late afternoon, his expression softening in a way reserved only for her.

“You’re late,” she said when she reached them, her attempt at casualness betrayed by the tremor in her voice.

His mouth curved in that subtle smile she’d come to cherish. “Unavoidable delays.”

“He brought presents!” Talia announced, bouncing on her toes.

“After dinner,” he said firmly, rising to his full height. His gaze never left her face. “I missed you.”

Three simple words that contained universes.

“We missed you too,” she replied, allowing herself to step into his embrace at last.

His arms enveloped her, solid and warm, and the scent of him—that indefinable mixture of ship engines, alien spices, and something uniquely Thraxar—filled her senses. His tail wrapped gently around her waist, an intimate gesture that made her heart race.

“Home now,” he murmured against her hair.

“Home,” she agreed.

Dinner was a joyous affair.Thraxar recounted carefully edited versions of his journey while the children interrupted with questions and stories of their own adventures during his absence.

“And Doctor Sarn says Kara is the best trauma specialist she’s ever worked with,” Talia reported proudly. “She fixed Trader Yonti’s hand when he crushed it in the loading dock.”