Kylian
The gardens had never looked more beautiful than they did that afternoon, wisteria heavy overhead exactly as Ella had remembered it from that first fragile spring after the river, white chairs arranged in careful rows facing an arbor Camille had spent weeks insisting was the only acceptable option among a dozen alternatives.
I stood beneath it now, watching the small crowd settle into place, Charlotte and Julian seated together near the front, Renata and Danika and Lucas gathered a few rows back, Marcus standing at the edge of the garden with the particular stillness of a man still working even on a day meant for celebration. Everyone who had helped build the reckoning that led us here, gathered now for something far gentler than the fight that had first brought us all together.
