Chapter 87

• The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the garden, painting the vibrant vegetables in hues of gold and amber. Cleo, her hands stained with earth, smiled as she watched Rowan coax a stubborn tomato plant towards the sun. Their laughter mingled with the gentle hum of bees, a symphony of peace that resonated deeply within her soul. Five years. It was still almost unbelievable. Five years of sun-drenched days and starlit nights, of shared laughter and whispered secrets, of a love that had blossomed from the ashes of a painful past.
• They had built a life together, brick by painstaking brick, a life that was a testament to their resilience, to their unwavering belief in second chances, in the power of healing. Their farmhouse, once a symbol of isolation and fear, now pulsed with warmth, echoing with the sounds of their children's playful shrieks. Their two beautiful children, Lily and Sam, were the radiant heart of their home, their innocent laughter a constant melody that filled their lives with joy. They were the living embodiment of hope, the tangible proof that love could overcome even the darkest of times.
• Lily, with her mother’s bright eyes and Rowan’s mischievous grin, was a whirlwind of energy, her boundless enthusiasm a constant source of wonder. Sam, quieter and more contemplative, possessed his father's calm demeanor and his mother’s unwavering determination. Watching them grow, watching their personalities unfold, brought Cleo an overwhelming sense of fulfillment, a profound gratitude for the life they had created. Their children were not just their legacy; they were their future, a future brimming with possibilities.