The stables were part of the retreat estate nestled in the hills—modern in amenities, but still holding the old charm of timber beams and open fields. The morning air was crisp, scented faintly with pine and fresh earth, and somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of an electric fence buzzed near the tree line, reminding us this wasn’t some forgotten century. We were still tethered to the present—barely.

Her hands were stiff as she held the reins. From behind, I could see her fingers tightening, as if she were preparing to face a battlefield. Her body sat upright in front of me, her back nearly touching my chest, and every time she took a deep breath, I could feel it in my ribcage.

“You’re so tense,” I whispered, leaning in a little closer. “Relax, love. We’re not fighting a dragon.”

She turned slightly, just enough for me to catch the amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips but it didn’t last long. Her gaze shifted back ahead, toward the dirt path cutting through the green field. The horse beneath us moved slowly, its steps soft and patient, as if it knew the rider on its back was still learning to trust the ground beneath her.

My left hand reached gently for hers, still gripping the reins too tightly. “Hold it like this,” I said, guiding her fingers into a looser grip. “If you hold too stiffly, she’ll get confused. Control isn’t about force, it’s about direction.”

She gave a small nod, but I could feel the tension in her begin to ease. I adjusted my seat slightly behind her, keeping my arm wrapped around her waist, one hand resting on the reins with hers, the other lightly supporting her side.

“You’re doing great,” I said, my voice lower this time. “See? She listens to you.”

The horse continued its gentle pace down the narrow trail framed by pine trees, and the morning breeze carried the scent of damp grass and earth. Her hair had loosened from its knot, some strands brushing back against my cheek. She was beginning to match the rhythm of the horse’s steps, her shoulders moving more freely, her breathing lighter.

Somewhere behind us, down the slope, I could still see the roof of the villa glinting in the sun—sleek and modern, all glass and stone, a stark contrast to the wildness around us. And yet this moment belonged nowhere but here.

“I like this better, you know?” I murmured, half teasing. “You in front, me behind. If you fall, I can catch you. But if I fall… well, at least I’ll land on your back.”

This time she turned a little more, holding back a laugh, and nudged my elbow with her shoulder. A small gesture—but warm. Comforting.

Three years with her and I still wasn’t immune to these simple things—watching her learn, try, and trust me enough to put her back in my hands. We didn’t need grand words. Just one horse, a quiet trail through the woods, and a grip I’d never let go of, even if the world shook beneath us.