The door creaked open as Claire stepped inside and set the basket of eggs on the counter. Before Mirela could turn, arms wrapped around her from behind. Mirela poured the coffee just the way Claire liked it and handed her the cup, slipping an arm around her waist.
They kissed softly and unhurried.
Outside, a goat bleated loudly, indignant at being ignored.
Claire laughed into the kiss. “Djali the Second is demanding attention again.”
Mirela smiled. “You were the one that wanted another goat.”
“You must admit, he is pretty amusing.”
Mirela laughed and kissed her once more. “He takes after you.”
They stood there for a moment longer, the fire crackling gently beside them, the scent of coffee and earth, and sunlight filling the room.
They were happy. They were free. And they were loved.
What remained was only a whisper of bells and prayers, and neither of them asked Mirela to suffer anymore.
