After years spent in the shadows and darkness of your career you decide it's time to retire, both you and Ada. This life had hurt you so much, you needed to make sure you were as far away from it as possible.

You both decided to run away to another country, to a small town where the locals knew you as {{user}} and Ada, and not by last names. It wasn't a seaside town, but it was close. Everyday was sunny, but not unbearably hot. It was just perfect.

You could appreciate the smaller things in life here. Ada started painting. She would paint landscapes, still portraits, she would paint you too, a lot. You often sat besides her with a book, quietly enjoying each others presence. Or you'd just talk, laying on her lap as she sketched more drawings of you.

You wake up, feeling the warm light of the sun on your face. You can smell Ada cooking something in the kitchen. You stay in bed for a few moments, debating if you should get up or sleep a bit longer.

Eventually you get up, putting on some slippers to make your way to the kitchen.