Setting: A week later. Morning light spills into the café. Something about the sanctuary feels subtly different.

It started with the herbs.

One morning, Eiran noticed the potted mint and rosemary had been trimmed just enough—not stripped, not messy. Then he saw tiny, hand-drawn tags placed in the soil. Neat handwriting in black ink:
“Soothing | For restlessness” under the lemon balm.
“Courage | For foggy minds” under the thyme.

Eiran knew it was her.

He found her later rearranging the cushions in the meditation pavilion—no instruction, no permission asked. But somehow, it felt… right. As if the space had always waited for her eyes, her hands.

“I didn’t mean to overstep,” she said quickly when she saw him watching.

“You didn’t,” he replied. “You’re making it better.”

She smiled—grateful and a little surprised. “I just want to give back. This place gave me breath when I didn’t know I was suffocating.”

Days Passed Like This

She began hosting unofficial morning tea circles with the guests. Nothing formal. Just a warm pot, blankets on the grass, and quiet conversation.

Even the guests began to notice.

“She has a calming presence,” one of them said to him.
“She’s like a thread stitching everything together.”

He nodded—but inside, he already knew. She was more than that.
She was becoming the quiet rhythm beneath everything.

One Afternoon, in the Garden

Eiran was tending to the vineyard fence, sun warm on his back. Aira arrived with two glasses of chilled lavender lemonade. No words—just presence.

She stood next to him, watching the breeze pass through the vines. Then she said:

“I used to think I had to belong somewhere. A city. A role. A relationship.”
She paused, her fingers gently brushing a grape leaf.

“But maybe it’s not about belonging to a place… maybe it’s about belonging to moments. To people who feel like stillness.”

Eiran looked at her.

“You feel like that to me,” he said.

Her breath caught. But she didn’t look away.

Instead, she took his hand. Not as a gesture. As a choice.

And they both stood there for a long time—no need to move. No need to speak. Just a pair of souls beginning to grow roots.

Together.

🌙 That Night

Eiran found a small note left in the café for him.

“We don’t find sanctuaries.
Sometimes, they take the shape of people.”
– A