But the river was winding, and the paths twisted through clusters of flowers and shrubs, diverging with considerable gaps between them. Gradually, the trails branched off in different directions.
Van enjoyed rowing in this quiet waterway, a habit formed during his time at Cambridge. Back then, he often retreated to such serene rivers to avoid interruptions. The surrounding woods now concealed the small waterway, flanked by overgrown plants and softening soil under the rain.
Winnie's steps were uneven, slipping on the muddy ground. Her shoes were already caked with dirt, her footing unstable.
She bit her lip tightly, letting the rain drench her completely, yet refusing to call out his name.
She believed that as long as she didn't shout for him, she could keep moving forward. Maybe, just maybe, at the next corner, she'd run right into his arms. It was a gamble she made with herself—stubborn and determined.