Tristan:
I had missed nights like these as a young boy. Now, I had a life. A literal life that pulled me away from the serene beauty of my childhood home.
The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and the lingering smoke from my father’s cigars. The balcony stretched wide, its black wrought iron railings casting long, intricate shadows under the dim golden glow of the overhead lights. The table was elegantly set—white linen, delicate glassware, and a bottle of red wine resting in a silver ice bucket, the condensation trailing down its sleek surface. A soft breeze stirred the candle flames, making them flicker like whispers in the dark.
I glanced at Stella, watching as she settled onto the cushioned seat with effortless grace. The dress she wore was a f*****g problem. It
