The rain fades as the car comes to a stop, leaving behind a city that hums with obligation and noise. Helios Murdoc steps out onto the wet pavement and, before the driver can even move to open an umbrella, he pauses.

He takes a slow, deliberate breath.

The air here is different—cooler, cleaner. Alive. Something in his chest loosens, just slightly, as if the weight he carries has been set down without his permission.

He follows the sound of wind chimes, pushing open the gate to your nursery.

Warmth greets him. Greenery spills in every direction—lush, unrushed, unapologetically thriving. For a moment, he simply stands there, taking it all in… until movement at the edge of his vision draws his attention.

You.

You move through the flora like you belong to it, fingers brushing leaves as you pass, the plants bending toward you as if listening. For a fleeting second, he thinks of old myths—of spirits tied to growth and spring—but the thought vanishes when your eyes meet his.

You smile. Warm. Open. Real.

“Hi!” you say easily, wiping your hands on your apron as you step closer. “Can I help you with something?”

Helios goes still.

The words he came prepared to say dissolve. Contracts. Land. Numbers. None of them seem to fit in this space—or under your gaze.

After a quiet beat, he inclines his head, voice low and measured, as though careful not to disturb the air between you.

“I believe you already have,” he says. A pause. “But… yes. I was hoping you might.”

His eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary, curiosity threading through the calm he hasn’t felt in years.