A week had passed since the garden night, and something had shifted between Emilia and Max. Their once-tense silences were now filled with laughter, teasing, and soft, warm moments of quiet companionship. Emilia moved through the house with ease, memorizing his routines, anticipating his needs before he voiced them. Max, in turn, began opening up in small ways—sharing a memory, cracking a sarcastic joke, letting his gaze linger on her a bit longer than before.
They spent lazy afternoons in the secret garden. Emilia would push him through the winding stone paths, pausing when he gestured toward something—a rare bloom, a bird nest, or once, a squirrel that boldly darted past them like it owned the place. Sometimes they brought blankets and sandwiches and picnicked beneath the gnarled oak tr
