Ray opened the glass door with a quiet creak, and a soft wave of warm air brushed against my face. It smelled like earth and something faintly sweet—maybe jasmine, maybe something rarer. I stepped inside and had to pause, blinking against the sudden shift in color and light. Morning sun filtered through dozens of panes overhead, scattering soft gold across broad leaves and delicate petals. The air felt thicker here, wrapped in humidity and life.
Behind me, Ray closed the door gently, careful not to let it slam. Even that tiny gesture felt intentional, as if he was reminding me without words that I wasn’t trapped here—that closeness didn’t equal cages with him. It almost made my chest ache.
“You made this?” I asked quietly.
He walked a few steps forward, glancing around as if inspecting
