I watch Noelle intently as he continues to tend to the wound on my left leg, his gentle hands moving with such precision and care. His face is focused, and I can't help but admire the way the soft afternoon light bathes him in a warm glow, making him look even more ethereal than usual. He's the love of my life, and in moments like this, the quiet simplicity of his presence feels like a blessing I don't deserve.
Just then, Grape, this infamous bird, flutters into the greenhouse, breaking the stillness. I gesture for Grape's personal maid to leave, not wanting an audience for this small piece of peace Noelle and I have found together. The bird lands on my outstretched forefinger, its weight a familiar presence. I raise an eyebrow at the puffed-up creature and smirk.
