“Not at all,” I said, my voice softening. “I was just thinking... what a pretty puzzle you are.”
Her breath hitched ever so slightly, and I saw something in her eyes—a glimpse of vulnerability, perhaps—before she quickly turned her gaze away.
The farmers' market here in the capital wasn’t like anything Ella was used to back home. It resembled more of an outdoor marketplace than a simple farmers' market. Fresh fruits and vegetables mingled with baked goods, but there were also handcrafted items—things people had crocheted or sewn, and occasionally even intricately carved wooden guns.
Ella didn’t seem fazed by the differences, though. The moment we entered the marketplace, a bright smile lit up her features. She looked around with obvious enjoyment, her enthusiasm infectious. Yet
