Skadi lay on her back, her breath steady as she performed her pelvic tilts. Sofia knelt beside her in the gymnasium, guiding her movements with a careful eye. The air was filled with the distant echoes of children’s laughter and shouts from the other side of the gym, where a group played a raucous game of “Drop the Handkerchief.” The moment the handkerchief hit the floor, a chase erupted, and the room exploded with cheers and screams.

  Skadi’s gaze drifted toward the chaos, watching as the kids darted in circles, their faces flushed with excitement. The seated children clapped and shouted encouragement, their voices bouncing off the high ceilings. For a moment, she forgot the ache in her muscles and the weight of the past few weeks.

  Sofia noticed her distraction.

  “Jonathan loved these kids,” she said, her voice softening. The mention of his name carried a bittersweet edge. He had left three days ago, and his absence still stung—almost as much as it did for Przemek.

  “Jonathan?” Skadi repeated, pausing mid-rep. She winced as a sharp twinge shot through her injured muscle—a lingering reminder of the shrapnel that had nearly torn her apart a month and a half ago. She had been lucky; her pelvis bone was intact, but the road to recovery was long and grueling.

  Sofia chuckled, though her eyes held a hint of sadness. “Don’t say his name too loud, or they’ll hear it. They’ll bombard you with questions for hours.”

  Skadi raised an eyebrow, curious.

  “When he wasn’t on guard duty or patrol, he worked at the daycare,” Sofia explained. “He didn’t teach them anything formal—just made sure no one got into trouble. And he played with them. They adored him.”

  “Yeah, he strikes me as the type,” Skadi said, her voice strained as she pushed through her final rep. Her muscles burned, and she clenched her teeth against the discomfort.

  Sofia’s hand pressed gently against her waist, applying just enough pressure to ease the tension. To Skadi’s surprise, the pain lessened.

  “Don’t overdo it,” Sofia warned, her tone firm but kind. “You’re here to rebuild, not break yourself again. Slow and steady, remember?”

  Skadi nodded, exhaling deeply as she relaxed into the mat. Her eyes wandered back to the children, their laughter a stark contrast to the quiet ache in her chest. Jonathan’s absence lingered in the air, a quiet ache that Skadi couldn’t quite shake. Though he wasn’t the sole reason she had come to Oksj?, his departure had left a void she hadn’t expected. Her move here had been sudden, almost jarring—her contract with Norrk?ping ending abruptly her injury being cited, her gear and belongings hastily thrown into a truck overnight. There had been no time for goodbyes, no time to process the shift.

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  Norrk?ping had felt oppressive, like a weight pressing down on her chest. It was as if the mistakes of the old world were being repeated tenfold there, each day a grim reminder of everything she wanted to escape. The crowded firehouse barracks, shared with five men and four other women, had been suffocating. Privacy was a luxury she could only dream of, and the constant noise and tension had worn her down.

  In contrast, Oksj? was a breath of fresh air—literally. The simplicity of life here, the calm rhythm of the days, and the people—polite but not overly so—felt like a balm to her frayed nerves. It wasn’t perfect, but it was miles ahead of the chaos she’d left behind.

  Sofia shifted positions, gently pushing one of Skadi’s legs toward her chest. Her movements were precise, professional, but the proximity felt overwhelming. Skadi stiffened as Sofia leaned in, applying pressure with her body to deepen the stretch. The closeness was too much—Sofia’s breath warm against her skin, her presence filling the space between them.

  Skadi’s jaw tightened. She had only met Sofia a few days ago, and while the woman was clearly skilled at her job, the intimacy of the moment felt intrusive.

  “Relax,” Sofia murmured, her voice calm but firm. “You’re holding too much tension in your hips. It’s counterproductive.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Skadi muttered under her breath, though she forced herself to exhale and loosen up. The stretch burned, a sharp reminder of how far she still had to go in her recovery.

  The walk back to the manor felt easier than the trek to the gym. Her muscles, now warm and loose, carried her with a lightness she hadn’t felt in weeks. The crisp air brushed against her skin, and for a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the simple pleasure of movement.

  As she passed through the grounds, her gaze drifted to the people sprawled on the grass, basking in the sunlight. They looked carefree, almost lazy, and Skadi couldn’t help but wonder, Do none of them work? The thought wasn’t judgmental, exactly—more curious than anything. She envied their ease, their ability to simply exist without the weight of responsibility pressing down on them.

  Part of her wanted to join them, to stretch out on the grass and let the sun warm her face. But she quickly dismissed the idea. In the few days she’d been here, she’d already fended off more than her share of admirers. End of the world or not, it seemed men now more than ever stuck to their old habits.

  The room Jonathan had lent her was a welcome refuge, even if it wasn’t perfect. Located on the upper floor of the manor, it was a far cry from the cramped, square barracks she’d called home for so long. The space was simple but comfortable, with a large window that let in plenty of light. She could tell Jonathan had tried to clean it before he left—the trash was gone, his clothes folded neatly in the wardrobe, the bed made with a semblance of effort. But it was still a man’s room, barely touched by the kind of deep cleaning that would make it feel truly hers.

  Skadi smiled faintly as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. Though there was a backdrop of cigarettes and alcohol, the other lingering scent of Jonathan’s hit her. She didn’t mind it, though. If anything, it made the room feel less impersonal, less like a temporary stop and more like a place where someone had actually lived.

  She dropped her bag by the door and walked over to the window, pushing it open to let in the fresh air. The sound of laughter drifted up from the grounds below, and she leaned against the sill, watching the sunbathers for a moment longer. For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this place could be more than just a pit stop. Maybe it could be a new beginning. If only he could come home. Do she didn’t fight her feelings for him, she knew she wasn’t his and he wasn’t hers. Part of her pragmatism kept in mind that wherever he was, in this world he might not ever come home again.