The lagoon settled into its own rhythm as the night deepened. The sounds of the woods shifted—less birdsong now, more the hum of insects and the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. The water had taken on an almost otherworldly glow, reflecting the faint light of the moon and stars above, its surface undisturbed but rippling faintly at the edges where the breeze whispered across it.
Rhys and I stayed where we were, lying back on the blanket we’d spread out, the basket of half-eaten sandwiches and fruit sitting beside us like a quiet reminder of the moments we’d already shared. It was the kind of silence you only found with certain people—the kind that felt full instead of empty, where words weren’t needed to fill the gaps.
At some point, Rhys pointed upward, his hand stretched lazily
