Chapter 18: The Forgotten Path

There was a trail near the edge of the forest we hadn't taken before one hidden by overgrowth and time, as if nature had tucked it away just for us. Curiosity pulled us in, and adventure pushed us forward.

The deeper we went, the more the world around us changed. The trees arched like cathedral ceilings, and the air felt sacred, ancient. We spoke in whispers, not wanting to disturb whatever magic lived here.

At the end of the path, we found a clearing with a broken bench and an old stone fountain, its water still trickling like a secret. Moss covered everything, and wildflowers bloomed without rules.

You sat on the bench, sketchbook in hand, while I wandered, letting the silence settle in me like a hymn.

"This place feels like it remembers things," you said, not looking up. "Like it's been waiting for someone to listen."

I sat beside you, and we stayed until the light turned gold. You handed me your sketch it was us again, holding hands in the same clearing, only older, gentler, still together.

And in that moment, I believed we would be.