Hazel’s POV
“You started planning our wedding without telling me?” I asked, half laughing, half genuinely stunned, as Julian pulled out a folder thick with venue photographs and catering menus.
“In my defense,” he said, “I’ve had a lot of free time since I stepped down from a company that used to consume every waking hour of my life.”
We were sitting on the floor of our apartment, the wedding folder spread out between us like a strange, hopeful mess, and I found myself laughing harder than I had in weeks, some tight knot in my chest finally loosening after the intensity of the past several weeks.
“This one,” I said, tapping a photograph of a small botanical garden near the river, sunlight filtering through greenhouse glass onto rows of flowering plants. “It’s not too big. Not too forma
