The garden was alive with soft colors that morning. Roses climbed the old trellis Damien had built with his own hands many years ago. Lavender swayed gently in the light breeze. The air smelled sweet. Like fresh earth after rain and the faint hint of jasmine from the bushes near the fence. Isolde sat on the worn porch swing. Her fingers traced the smooth wood where they had sat together so many times over the decades. The swing creaked softly with every gentle push of her foot.
She was old now. Her hands showed the lines of a life fully lived. Wrinkles from laughter. From worry. From holding her children and grandchildren. But her heart still felt young. Still raced the same way it had that rainy night when she ran into his car. Damien sat beside her. His hair was silver. His shoulders s
