Lila’s POV
The De Silva farm was wonderful.
After breakfast, we took a slow walk around the property—just me, Oscar, and Henry. The sun was warm on our shoulders, the breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, and ducks quacked cheerfully around a small pond nestled in the grass. Oscar pointed out spots from his childhood, recounting stories that made Henry laugh so hard he doubled over, and I found myself giggling along with them.
It felt like a dream. A brief, shining pocket of peace.
Eventually, we wandered back to the house to prepare for lunch. The table had once again been laid out with polished silver dishes, their surfaces gleaming in the sunlight pouring through the windows. The scent of roasted meats and warm bread filled the air, and for a moment, it was easy to believe that t
