She blinked, trying to return to reality. At some point, she stepped back without realizing it. Isha was no longer calling her over. Hands clasped together, carefully watching Jinx, as if silently asking "did I do something wrong?".

No. No, no, no… She didn't. Never.

Jinx swallowed hard, forcing herself to step closer, kneeling and reaching out her trembling hands to Isha's light.

The girl picked up her bag, throwing it around her shoulder just like Jinx did, and cut the distance, allowing the older girl to pick her up.

If it really _is _her wake-up call, Jinx can't let it slip. She can't let her hesitation hurt someone so fragile, so alive. Someone who needs her.

She would not let this cycle continue.

But even with that thought, Jinx wasn't sure of how to answer. What to think. She had so much on her mind, yet words just didn't seem to leave her mouth. One thing she knew for sure is that she couldn't let Isha blame herself for anything.

She had always been able to talk her way out of trouble — and if not, her gun would do the job — but this was different. This wasn't about fixing things with words. The upside is, Isha never needed words from her. She communicated on emotion. And over time, Jinx learned that language, too.

So, instead of speaking hollow promises, she carefully hugged Isha and stood up, holding the little kid safely in her arms, close to her chest. Her beating heart. A thing that moms did — _probably _— at least that's what she saw some people from Zaun do; probably some kind of sentiment— as far as Jinx knew — with a reason. Vi never carried her like that, never held in her arms. But Vander did — with both of them, actually. And, even thought is hurt to think about him, Silco did too — in very rare, very necessary moments. It seemed like Jinx would have to figure out the reason all on her own.

Isha learned into her, tiny hands hugging her shoulders, eyes closing with a happy sign. Jinx's heart raced, a stutter in her chest growing louder. The pressure was light but comforting, a reminder that Jinx wasn't alone. There was a trust in her touch, a sense of quiet understanding that made Jinx feel less like she was carrying the weight of the world. She could feel the ache of it, the deep, hurting pull of responsibility settling heavy on her troubled mind. The feeling of unease; fear of messing it up, doing something wrong. Not giving enough of what Isha deserves to have.

_This is what it means to be a mother, maybe?, _Jinx wondered, her thoughts all jumbled. This is what it feels like.

She didn't know what the future held for them. She didn't know how she would keep them both safe or what kind of life they would make — but somehow, she knew it would all be okay.

Isha's breathing, steady and calm, helped steady Jinx's own pulse, as if she was the one holding Jinx together. It was in those moments — quiet, without a spoken word — that she would found herself smiling, and feeling like her true self again. She wasn't sure what it was called, but she knew it was something that mattered.

So she held Isha tightly, burying her face in girl's messy, blue-painted hair, feeling the warm beat of her heart. Steady and alive. She didn't know what the hell she was doing. But maybe that was the point. Maybe it was time for her to stop pretending she had it all figured out. She didn't need to.

— Well... — She finally whispered, voice trembling with something that felt like fear, or maybe hope, or both. — If we're starting over... I guess we can have a little update on our relationship status, huh?

Isha's eyes sparkled, not understanding the words, but feeling that it means a lot for her. She gave Jinx a tiny, knowing smile — one that was filled with such happiness that almost made Jinx smile too, like she wanted to hold onto this moment forever. Jinx knew she needed Isha — the only ray of sunlight in her storm-covered universe. And Isha needed her for a long time, too. Maybe she failed to recognize in what specific way.

As a friend. A sister. A protector. Or even a symbol of Zaun.

"A sister"

She let the word hang in the air for the last time, and with a breath, added to herself, smiling:

It was the time to let that go, too.

Because this was something new — to find something new, accept something new, not use it to replace the past.

She isn't bound to have a sister anymore.

She has Isha.

Her kid. Her daughter.

It will take time to get used to — but hey, what's ahead of her if not getting used to a whole lot of new things?

Jinx glanced back at their old home, the meaning of this last moment floating in the air like a soft curtain before a show. She bit her lip, then moved Isha in her arms to hold her more comfortably, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

— Hey, — She started, leaning down slightly to meet Isha's wide, curious eyes, and softly caressed her cheek with one hand. — Ready for a flight? I was _this _close to bringing the glitter cannons, but then decided—nah, let's keep in classy for once.

Isha's face lit up with another smile so bright it made Jinx pause for a beat, momentarily stunned by the warmth in it. The kind of smile that could outshine any stage lights. How can she do that, every time?

— You know what? We can still make it fun. Here's the deal - no confetti or smoke bombs, but I _will _make sure there's at least one passenger who leaves with a story, — Jinx paused, eyes glinting mischievously. — And by story, I mean one where they'll probably be complaining about me for the next decade.

Isha closed her eyes, shaking her head with laughter, clearly entertained by Jinx's over-the-top flair. Her excitement was palpable.

Jinx leaned back, chuckling softly as she tug at her backpack, making sure it's safely in place, and turned around to the exit.

— Trust me, kid. If you don't hear someone muttering about how I ruined their entire day by the time we land, I'll personally put on a one-woman play just to apologize.

The words were left in their hideout, but something else lingered too — a subtle shift in Jinx's chest, something light, like the promise of new beginnings. A true one.

The past wasn't something they could change, but accepting that, this new life could be something different. Maybe, hopefully, better. She didn’t know exactly how or when it would unfold, but for the first time in a long while, she felt excitement in that unknown, ready to step forward, one moment at a time.