In a moment, there is a touch of reminiscence to the way her hand fits in his, a touch of memory between how close they are. It's the tender whisper of trust once again being formed, trust that Atri had thrown away, trust that Zen had been absolutely terrified of, and now, it's blooming again, a garden created by her gentle hands.
And maybe, he didn't have a choice when he met her but to let her in, because it had happened so easily, that he didn't mean to let her come to take up so much of his heart. Instead, Shirayuki had guided his heart home, and in a moment, he is so grateful for that. So grateful for the chance to let old scars that were healing heal further.
Shirayuki had reached into the place that had grown so dark and flipped a switch on, and suddenly, it's beaming bright with so much life, that Zen can't even begin to figure out when he'd grown so used to the darkness. It's so bright now.
And so, he reaches out, grateful to her for reaching over to him, something she'd naturally done without the intent of transforming his life, and yet, so very easily, she'd already begun to transform it. She is the master gardener, and he is merely the garden the responds so gently to her touch.