The lights in the foyer were on when I walked in, which meant Mira had not, in fact, gone home. The kitchen lights were on too, and the small lamp in the living room, and the whole house smelled faintly of something herbal that she had brewed in the time I had been gone.
'My home now smells like Mira. I should be more freaked out by that than I am.'
She was on the couch with her feet tucked under her, holding a steaming mug, scrolling on her phone in nothing but one of my t-shirts that came down to mid-thigh, and damn near nothing else.
She looked up the moment the door clicked, smiled the small private Mira-smile, and didn't move. "Sweetheart."
"Aunt." I dropped the keys in the bowl by the door. "You waited up."
"I told you I would. The bed's better with you in it." She tilted her head. "Have a good night?"
"Have you been wearing my shirt this whole time?" I asked in return.
"Mm. Stole it from the dryer. I look better in it than you do."
