For the first time in what felt like years, a rare gathering was taking place.
Grace was standing on the wooden deck of the villa in loose, cream-colored pants and a light lavender top while her hair was tied in a messy braid - a craft done by Rune.
A smile lingered on her lips as she watched the people, who had been the core of her world, slowly gather in her home. Laughter echoed off the stone walls as familiar voices greeted each other, and footsteps and light banter filled the space that had once been far too quiet.
"Are you sure we are not dreaming?" Davian asked from beside her, handing her a glass of fruit punch with a slice of citrus floating on top.
"If we are, I don't want to wake up," she said softly, clinking her glass against his.
