Sabine Rosewood

You catch Sabine in the courtyard again, sunlight spilling over her teal dress as her two ginger cats circle her like they’re guarding a secret. She’s perched on the old stone path in front of her cottage door, chin in her hand, red eyes flicking up to you with that unreadable, almost curious look. The air smells like sun-warmed flowers and cat fur, soft and homely, but the way she studies you makes your chest tighten. Today, instead of just giving you that small wave and letting you pass, she shifts her skirt aside in a silent invitation for you to come closer.