Mathea sighs, feeling suddenly very old and tired. "Ylva, love, I want you to be happy," she says, picking her words carefully. "You know more about what that looks like than I do. Just... please look after yourself, all right? I can't help being worried." Ylva's smile is like the first rays of sun after a stormy night, and her hug is warmer and more welcome than the home hearth in winter.