INTERLUDE III: THE LAVENDER ROAD
369 Words
Three days after the storm, Leo appeared at Emilia’s door at dawn with a small duffel bag, two train tickets, and that same crooked smile that had once talked her into skinny-dipping in the sea at midnight.
She raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”
“Where the trains go slow and the lavender blooms early.”
They arrived in Provence by midday, stepping off the train into a quiet countryside town that smelled of earth and sweet herbs. The kind of place where no one hurried, and even the wind seemed to whisper softly.
Their hotel was tucked into a hillside, wrapped in wisteria vines and sunlight. A single bed. No awkwardness. Just quiet understanding.
“We’re not here to fix anything,” Leo said, dropping their bags. “We’re just here.”
They wandered through lavender fields with the wind in their hair and bees humming lazily around them. Emilia let herself fall backward into the purple bloom, laughing as Leo dropped beside her.
She stared up at the sky.
“I used to imagine doing this when we were kids,” she said. “Running away. Just us. Somewhere no one could touch us.”
“And now we’re here.”
She looked at him. “It’s not perfect. We’re not perfect.”
He smiled. “No. But you still smell like wildflowers. And I still want to draw you every time you laugh.”
She kissed him then deep and unhurried, the sun warming her skin and his hands cradling her like he finally understood what it meant to hold on.
That night, they danced barefoot in a quiet vineyard, just the two of them and an old man playing violin beneath string lights. The air was warm with the scent of grapes and dusk.
No expectations. No past.
Just present.
Just love.
In their room later, Emilia lay with her head on Leo’s chest, fingers tracing lazy circles across his ribs.
“Do you think we’ll mess it up again?” she whispered.
He kissed her forehead. “Probably.”
She laughed softly.
“But we’ll mess it up together this time,” he added.
And somehow, that was more than enough.
- Writer
