Chapter 8: The Vow
220 Words
Winter came softly to Saint-Aubin. The lavender fields slept beneath a blanket of frost, and the vineyard lay dormant, waiting for spring. Clara and Julien planned a small wedding in the village chapel, surrounded by friends, students, and neighbours.
Clara walked down the aisle with a bouquet of dried lavender and grape leaves. Her dress was simple, her smile radiant. Julien waited at the altar, his eyes full of quiet joy.
They exchanged vows written in their own words.
“I vow to love you in every season,” Clara said, “to listen, to forgive, and to grow beside you.”
“I vow to never stop writing to you,” Julien replied, “even when we’re old and grey, even when we’re silent.”
After the ceremony, they returned to the farmhouse, where a fire crackled and wine flowed. Clara stood on the porch, watching the stars, her heart full.
She turned to Julien. “Do you think my mother would be proud?”
Julien nodded. “She’d say you found your way home.”
Clara smiled, then whispered, “Let’s write our own letters now.”
And so they did—every season, every year—letters tucked into drawers, tied with twine, scented with lavender. A love story that bloomed, not in haste, but in harmony.
- Writer
