The sun rose gently, wrapping the garden in a golden light that made everything more vivid, more beautiful. The flowers seemed to shine under the morning rays, and the air was filled with the scent of freshly turned soil. I knelt by a bed of roses, my gardening gloves on, methodically pulling out the weeds trying to infiltrate the flowers.
Ezran was there, as always, near me. He couldn't help but find an excuse to be close. That morning, he pretended to help me move the flower pots that Paolo had left lined up the day before, but I knew he wasn't there for the pots. I heard him approach before he even spoke.
"You're focused as if your life depended on it," he said, with that smile in his voice that always made me roll my eyes.
I looked up to find him leaning nonchalantly against the trunk of a tree, arms crossed, an amused smile on his lips. "Someone has to make sure this garden stays immaculate," I replied, feigning indifference.
