"Caym, hurry up," the voice drifted to him like a soothing melody, each word a gentle breeze that urged him forward with a sense of urgency and warmth.
Ingrid stood atop a hill, a vision of grace against the canvas of nature. The wind played with the loose strands of her hair, tamed into a simple bun, and her blue eyes mirrored the vastness of the skies.
In her hands, she cradled wildflowers, a burst of color against the simplicity of her white dress and gray bodice. Despite the humble attire, she exuded an ethereal quality, standing like an angel in the soft glow of sunlight that framed her.
As Caym ascended the hill, his gaze remained fixed on Ingrid's radiant smile, a beacon that drew him closer with every step.
"You're looking at me like that again," Ingrid remarked, a playful smile gracing her lips as she tilted her head.
"How can someone be so beautiful?" Caym thought, the question echoing in his mind.
