The garden held the late morning with a deceptive gentleness, for though the sunlight filtered through branches in soft gold and the faint murmur of distant students drifted like harmless noise, something beneath the quiet remained unsettled, and Ella stood near the old stone path with her posture composed, her hands resting loosely at her sides, though the tension beneath her stillness did not fade, only deepened with each passing breath.
Ethan approached slower this time, his steps measured rather than uncertain, his shoulders squared as though he had already decided not to turn back again, though the subtle tightness in his jaw betrayed the pull he did not yet understand, and his gaze remained fixed upon her with a steadiness that refused to look away.
