I never meant to come back. After I ran from that guy in the rose garden, I told myself I wouldn’t return. Too raw. Too open. But the silence of the province had a way of pulling me toward places that felt like healing.

So I pushed open the creaking iron gate again, the scent of roses wrapping around me like a forgotten lullaby. And then I heard it—guitar strings, soft and warm, playing a melody I didn’t know but felt in my bones.

He was sitting beneath the arbor, sunlight filtering through red petals. When he saw me, he smiled like we’d known each other forever.

'You came back,' he said.

I nodded, voice caught in my throat. 'I… I’m sorry I left like that.'

'It’s okay,' he said, patting the grass beside him. 'I’d wait for anyone who needed time.'

And just like that, the world stopped hurting—for a little while.