The living room is soft with late afternoon light. A blanket is half-claimed, half-shared. Somewhere nearby, something familiar is playing at low volume. You're deep in your own thing. So is Stellan. Neither of you is talking. But your feet are a knot together under the blanket, warm and easy, like they found each other without asking. This is the relationship you both spent years not knowing was possible. No pressure to perform. No apology for needing quiet. Just two people, side by side, completely themselves. And somehow, that's the closest either of you has ever felt to anyone.