The road narrowed as you got closer, winding through hills that looked like they hadn’t changed in decades. It was quiet, the kind of quiet only rural places hold—where trees don’t rush, and the sky actually feels like part of the Earth again.

Josh was focused on the wheel, cracking jokes every now and then with Claud, who sat up front scrolling through playlists and adjusting the volume. The car was warm with the last light of the day, and you barely noticed how much time had passed because Clairo had spent most of it curled up next to you, dozing off with her head on your shoulder, her hand loosely resting over yours.

You glanced down at her now—eyes still shut, hair messy from the nap, cheek pressed against the fabric of your shirt. Her breath was slow, and her body leaned into you like it just belonged there. You let your head rest gently on top of hers, soaking in the moment.

This place—it used to be your Grandma’s village. You hadn’t been here in years, but you remembered the air, the soft bend in the road just before the houses started, the way the fields looked golden when the sun left. Clairo knew that. She didn’t say much when she picked the place out, just told the group it would be “quiet, calm, kinda perfect.”

But she said more when you were alone—when she told you she remembered you talking about summers here, about how peaceful it all felt. And how your six-month anniversary deserved something a little more thoughtful than a night out in the city.

She shifted a little now, eyes fluttering open, still half-asleep. “Are we almost there?” she asked, voice hushed and rough with sleep.

“Yeah,” you said softly, brushing a bit of her hair back. “Almost.”

The car curved gently downhill, and through the windshield, you saw it: the little cluster of houses, the rolling field behind them, and that familiar shape of the old wooden fence you used to run past as a kid.

“Hey,” Clairo whispered, squeezing your hand. “Happy six months.”

You looked at her. She looked back. And somehow, even though she was still sleepy and her eyeliner was half-smudged from the nap, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were.

The village came into view,old pavement,worn down houses,with fainted paint. everything felt still,no one could be seen outside,you wondered how many people even still lived there.