As the morning light streamed through the sheer linen curtains, it painted the walls of the bedroom with a golden hue. In the stillness of dawn, the vineyard lay dormant, its rows of vines covered in dew as they awaited the gentle caress of warmth. Lila lay half-awake, her body entangled in a web of blankets and limbs, on the bed they shared—a worn-in, creaky, lovingly-made bed.
The cotton sheet barely covered her hips as she lay on her stomach. Every change in the weather felt the same way on her sun-kissed and sleep-warmed skin. Soft and fragrant with lavender, a breeze blew through the window. In the distance, birdsong sounded like they understood this was a holy moment. She drew in a deep breath, slow and measured, neither sleeping nor prepared to shatter the enchantment of silence.
