Through the gaps in the grapevines, I could vaguely make out two figures standing way too close.
“We’ve picked enough. Let’s go.” His voice was low and calm, just like always—no emotion, no warmth.
Before I even decided what to do, my legs had already started moving. I walked straight over—then froze. The scene was like a slap to the face.
Vera was dressed in a flowy white dress with a light trench coat. Her hair was pinned up with a wooden hairpin, showing off her graceful neck, and she was looking up at Henry with a smile, holding a grape she’d just picked.
Henry stood across from her, wearing a classic gray double-breasted coat. He leaned slightly to the side, avoiding her attempt to feed him and gently took the grape from her hand, tossing it into the basket he was carryi
