Six months passed like watercolor bleeding across heavy paper—fast, fluid, and vibrant.
Spring had arrived on the north ridge not with a quiet whisper, but with a roar of melting snow, blooming mountain laurel, and the steady, rhythmic thrum of heavy machinery.
Ava stood at the edge of the clearing, her dark hair tied back in a loose knot, wearing a pair of worn denim overalls smudged with dried mud and chalk. Around her neck hung her favorite vintage Leica camera, but for the first time in weeks, she wasn't looking through the viewfinder.
She was watching Liam.
Fifty yards away, standing beside a yellow excavator and a team of contractors, Liam looked entirely in his element. He wore a scuffed white hard hat, a faded work shirt with the sleeves rolled past his elbows, and steel-toed b
