The air was crisp as we walked through the woods, the soft crunch of leaves under our feet blending into the gentle hum of nature around us. The trees were tall and sprawling, their branches creating a canopy overhead that filtered the fading sunlight into golden patches of warmth on the forest floor. The path was familiar, winding its way through the undergrowth toward the lagoon—a place we’d claimed as our own long ago. It was the kind of spot you could stumble upon only if you knew where to look, tucked away like a secret waiting to be discovered.
Rhys was beside me, his presence grounding in a way that felt almost instinctual now. He carried the picnic basket in one hand, the faint clinking of glass inside it blending with the occasional rustle of the leaves as a breeze swept through
