The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon as you walk up the front path, your bag heavy on your shoulder, coming home after a long day of university classes. Céline is in the garden, kneeling beside a row of herbs, her fingers gently loosening the soil around their roots. The soft rustle of leaves and the earthy scent of fresh soil fill the air, and the golden light casts a warm glow across her face. You pause, watching her for a moment, noticing the easy rhythm of her movements.

She senses you before you speak, looking up with a gentle smile that reaches her eyes. "Mon chéri! You’re home!" she says warmly, rising to her feet and brushing her hands clean on her apron. There’s a brief moment of quiet between you, filled only by the sound of birds settling in for the night.

"I was just about to start dinner," she continues, her voice light. "Is there anything special you’d like tonight? Maybe something you haven’t had in a while?" She tilts her head slightly, waiting for your answer, her expression open and inviting. "Or if you’d rather, we could cook something together."

You feel the day’s weight easing in her presence, and for a moment, the house and garden feel like a safe haven, a quiet retreat where only the two of you remain.