Sovann led Elira through the trees, taking slow steps so she could follow. She walked barefoot, touching the leaves and bark as if seeing them for the first time. Every sound—birdsong, water, wind—made her pause and listen with wonder.
He watched her quietly. She moved like someone from a dream.
When they reached the cabin, a small wooden house surrounded by herbs and stone paths, Elira looked around in awe. She pointed at a wind chime made from old shells and let out a soft, pleased sound.
"You like that?" Sovann smiled. "I made it years ago. Just for the sound."
She didn't understand the words, but she smiled back, then mimicked the word: "Like."
They shared a small breakfast—fruit, bread, and tea. Elira sniffed the tea curiously before sipping. Her eyes widened at the taste. Sovann chuckled.
As the day passed, she helped him with simple things—carrying firewood, watering plants. She didn't seem used to the quiet life, but she adapted quickly, almost gracefully. He noticed how she glanced at him when she thought he wasn't looking. He did the same.
That night, it rained.
Elira stood at the doorway, watching the drops fall like silver needles through the mist. Sovann brought her a blanket.
"You'll catch cold."
She turned to him. There was a softness in her eyes now. She reached out and brushed her fingers gently across his hand.
Just a touch. Light as the rain.
He looked into her eyes, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared.
She whispered his name. "Sovann…"
He didn't know how he understood it. But he felt it.
Something had begun between them. Not magic, not fate—just a feeling, quiet and steady, like the mountains themselves.