“Let me paintyou,” he whispered, reaching for a brush. We laughed as he gently traced patterns on my body, the cool sensation of paint contrasting with the warmth of his touch. It became a game of distraction. Every time I tried to concentrate on the sketch, he’d kiss my neck, or lightly run his fingers along my sides, making me giggle and squirm. Before long, we were both covered in paint and tangled together on the floor, lost in a messy, passionate embrace.
The memory was bittersweet.
Despite the superficial aspects of our relationship, there was a genuine love between us. I loved how he made me feel alive and invincible, a feeling I hadn’t recaptured since. Those wild, carefree moments unveiled my hidden potential, allowing me to channel my creativity into something raw and beautiful. They were a reminder of the intense, unconventional love we shared, a love that was both exhilarating and fleeting.
Here, the calm was burdensome—almost stifling—enhancing the void left by Sebastian’s absence. As I put the last sketchbook away, the same photograph that had slipped out earlier caught my eye, its corner sticking out from the pages. It was a snapshot of a past life I was trying to leave behind, and I pulled it out, glancing at the familiar image one last time. The ache of those memories was still there, but I needed to move forward. Determined to bury the past, and the lingering presence of Sebastian, I tucked the photograph into a drawer, out of sight and,hopefully, out of mind.
This marked a new beginning, and I was determined to make it work. I just hoped that, in the process of finding myself, I wouldn’t lose sight of who I wanted to become.
Seeking further solace, I wandered into the kitchen and found a welcome basket the owner of the cottage had prepared. They had filled it with thoughtful items: a bottle of red wine, a loaf of freshly baked bread, a jar of homemade jam, and a selection of local cheeses. Tucked inside was a folded note. I opened it and read the warm message:
Welcome to Willow Cottage!
I hope you enjoy your stay, and that this place feels like a home away from home. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. Just a quick note: the hot water in the shower does work, but it takes a minute or two to come through, so don’t worry if it seems cold at first! Also, please remember to secure the trash and recycling bins outside—raccoons can be quite the little bandits around here!
P.S. I’ve asked Ivy to pop by and welcome you, as I’m visiting family at the moment. Hope to see you around our charming town soon!
Best, Margie.
Smiling at the personal touch, I poured myself a glass of wine and felt a bit more settled. The warmth of the fire, and the simple pleasures from the basket, eased the tension in my shoulders. Taking the glass, and a piece of bread and cheese, I settled onto the comfortable sofa, sinking into itsplush cushions. The long drive had left me weary, both physically and emotionally, and it felt good to finally relax.
As I nibbled on the bread and cheese, I chuckled to myself, thinking about how this was such a typical girl-dinner—wine and snacks, the perfect end to a tiring day. It was a small indulgence, but one that felt right in this quiet, cozy setting.
The bundle of herbs Ivy had given me sat on the coffee table, their subtle fragrance filling the room. I made a mental note to hang them up tomorrow—perhaps they really would bring in some good luck. God knows, I could use a bit of that right now.
The sun was setting out the window, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape. The sky was a canvas of vibrant oranges, pinks, and purples, each color blending into the next in a breathtaking display. And with that, I felt a small spark of hope. Maybe this place, with its quaint charm and quiet comfort, was exactly what I needed to find my way again.
Chapter 2
IWOKE UP IN MY NEW PLACE, the silence of Hallow’s End pressing down like a heavy blanket, the oppressive quiet making me miss the familiar city buzz I once found irritating—honking cars, distant conversations, and comforting white noise. I threw off the covers and padded to the window, peeking out at the misty morning. The rising sun cast an amber glow over the rolling hills and dense forest.
After rummaging through my suitcase, I chose a stylish autumn ensemble: a fitted, cream-colored turtleneck sweater with statement sleeves, paired with sleek, high-waisted black jeans. I slipped on my favorite ankle boots—suede with a subtle heel—and wrapped a deep plum scarf around my neck for a pop of color. I brushed my coffee-brown hair into soft, effortless waves.
Craving coffee to start my day, I ventured into the town center. The ground was covered in pine needles and acorns, their earthy tones punctuatedby the occasional burst of crimson berries, creating a textured canvas that heralded autumn’s arrival.
Townspeople smiled and nodded as I passed, some offering cheerful greetings. Their warm expressions and easy-going nature were a stark contrast to the rush and grumpy indifference of city life. The air felt fresh and clean, carrying the crisp scent of pine needles, mixed with a faint hint of spiced apple from a nearby bakery. Worlds away from the usual city smog.
As I walked through town, I noticed how the locals dressed in comfortable, laid-back clothes. Cozy flannel shirts, jeans, and sturdy boots, that made them effortlessly blend in to their rustic surroundings. In contrast, the softness of my cashmere sweater felt too refined, and I tugged at the hem, while the sharp clicks of my heeled boots on the cobblestone streets echoed loudly, making me feel out of place.
I wondered if I should ask Ivy to take me shopping. We’d only met yesterday, but she was warm, and exuded an easy friendliness that made me feel like we’d get along. I’ve always connected quickly with people in my almost-desperation to seek out real, meaningful relationships. A new friendship could be just what I needed—something unconnected to my family,orSebastian. The idea of forming genuine ties in a new place felt refreshing.
Hallow’s End was nothing like Cresden. Here, people strolled leisurely down the sidewalks, pausing to chat with neighbors and shopkeepers. An elderly man sat on a bench, feeding birds, while a group of children played hopscotch nearby, their laughter echoing down the street. Every passerby seemed genuinely interested in the next, exchanging warm greetings and stopping for unhurried conversations. It was strange but refreshing.
In Cresden, the atmosphere was starkly different. The city buzzed with the constant rush of hurried footsteps and honking cars. People rarely made eye contact, let alone stopped to chat. Everyone was too busy withtheir own lives. Heads down, earbuds in, always hurrying from one place to the next.
I found the caffeine haven easily enough—Harvest Moon Coffee. The quaint brick building, similar to my cottage, had ivy draped over it, and a charming sign swinging above the door. Seasonal decorations—pumpkins of various sizes and twinkling fairy lights—dotted the small tables and chairs arranged on the sidewalk.
Inside, the rich aroma of freshly brewed cappuccino and warm pastries enveloped me. Shelves lined the walls, filled with intriguing books and lush potted plants, adding a touch of greenery and life to the space. Warm, earthy tones painted the walls, with one wall showcasing a vibrant mural depicting a whimsical forest scene. String lights hung overhead, casting a soft, cozy glow.
An assortment of inviting seating, from plush armchairs upholstered in rich colors, to rustic wooden benches with colorful cushions, beckoned visitors to sit and stay awhile. The soft hum of a jazz melody played in the background, blending with the soft murmur of conversations and the occasional clatter of dishes from the counter.
I approached the counter, where a friendly barista greeted me. She had her curly auburn hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and a nametag reading MARLENE. “Good morning! What can I get for you today?” Her smile reached her bright green eyes.
“A large, iced pumpkin spice latte, please,” I said, stifling a yawn.
Marlene chuckled as she began preparing the drink. “You must be Lavinia, right?”
I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Just Vinnie. How did you know?”
