The Final Night
That evening, the woman sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the python she had once thought of as family.
Saffron slid across the sheets with slow, deliberate grace. For a fleeting moment, it positioned itself just as it always had—its coils draped around her waist, its head resting near her chest.
But this time, the woman was fully awake. She felt the weight. The quiet strength. The silent danger.
Tears welled in her eyes as she gently lifted the snake and placed it back into its terrarium. The latch clicked shut. She sank to the floor beside it, pressing her forehead against the cool glass.
“I love you,” she whispered. “But love doesn’t erase what you are.”
