Amelia found herself smiling — no, glowing — as she slowly turned each page of the album.
Every photograph breathed life back into her memories.
Warm sand slipped between her toes again.
The salty breeze brushed her cheeks, playful and tender.
Golden sunsets bled into crimson horizons, wrapping her honeymoon in hues that felt unreal, as though she had stepped into a dream someone painted just for her.
She paused at one picture longer than the rest.
Kendrick stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. He wasn’t looking at the camera. He was looking at her. The way his gaze softened — focused, devoted, almost reverent — made her chest tighten.
“How could he look at me like that…” she murmured, her voice barely a breath.
Her lashes trembl
