Morning sunlight spilled through the trees like gold dust as Mya and Keith walked along the trail that wound through the park. Dew clung to the grass, glittering at their feet. The path smelled faintly of pine and earth—clean, grounding.
It was early enough that the city hadn’t found its volume yet. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves, the faint lap of water from the pond nearby, and the rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot.
Keith carried a thermos in one hand, a second cup hooked through his fingers. “You weren’t kidding about being an early riser,” he said, smiling. “I thought I was the only one cursed with a 6 a.m. internal alarm.”
Mya laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I used to wake up even earlier when I was married. Damon liked his breakfast ready befo
