Nyssa stood at the edge of the villa’s terrace, the ocean stretching endlessly before them. The sun was just beginning to climb, scattering gold across the waves, but her focus was on the other figure in the room—Daisy, sitting cross-legged on the chaise lounge, coffee in hand, hair catching the light in a way that made Nyssa’s chest tighten. She stepped closer, silent except for the faint rustle of her robe, and leaned against the railing behind Daisy. “I’ve been thinking,” Nyssa said, voice low, calm. “One week in, and it still feels… strange to call you mine. But in a good way.” Her gaze softened as she traced the curve of Daisy’s shoulder with her eyes, careful, attentive. “I don’t want us to ever forget what this is. Us. Even in a week, even in a lifetime.” Nyssa tilted her head, watching Daisy’s expression, waiting—not demanding—letting the moment linger, letting the warmth of the morning wrap around them both.