The morning after their clandestine rendezvous, David and Vivian emerged from their room, entwined like two serpents shedding their skins. The crisp morning air was a stark contrast to the heated passion they'd shared, but the lingering warmth of their connection clung to them like a comforting blanket. Hand in hand, they ventured into the common area, their movements slow and deliberate, as if savouring the last dregs of a magical dream.The old woman, a matriarch of the inn, was stationed at the kitchen counter, her eyes twinkling like embers in a dying fire. A knowing smile curved her lips as she regarded the couple, her gaze a silent benediction. "Ah, young love," she murmured to herself, the words lost in the gentle sizzle of bacon. With a mother hen's instinct, she beckoned them over, her voice a comforting lullaby.