Caleb's POV:
I looked at Milo, who was busy telling something to Elena in a secret voice. And she was smiling that beautiful smile of hers.
They looked so beautiful together. Elena leaned closer to Milo as she spoke, her hand warm and absentminded where it rested on the edge of his plate, and Milo listened with the fierce concentration only kids had, like whatever she was saying mattered more than anything else in the room.
I couldn’t look away.
The inn was busy around us—cutlery clinking, low voices, the smell of coffee and toasted bread—but all of it blurred at the edges when I looked at them. They looked happy. Comfortable. Like they belonged together in a way that didn’t feel new, or fragile, or temporary. They looked like they’d known each other for a lifetime. Before all of this.
