The next morning, I woke early, a sense of nervous anticipation twisting in my stomach. Today was the day I had planned a picnic with Serena—a tentative step toward bridging the chasm between us. I had Susan prepare an elaborate spread: delicate sandwiches, fresh fruit, pastries, and a thermos of her famous spiced tea.
As Susan worked, I carefully selected a gift for Serena—a small box of handcrafted chocolates from the pack’s chocolatier. It was a simple gesture, a token of goodwill meant to show her that I was earnest about mending things between us.
When everything was ready, I carried the basket down to Swan Lake myself. The sun shimmered off the water, the gentle waves lapping at the shore as I arranged the blanket and laid out the food. I positioned the gift neatly at the corner of
