Rosalee's Point of View
Five years later.
The sun is warm on my skin, a soft golden light blanketing everything in the comforting glow of a perfect summer day. The air smells like grilled meat and sweet flowers, the buzz of laughter and easy conversation drifting through the backyard. A soft breeze carries the sound of children’s giggles as they run barefoot across the grass, the perfect soundtrack to a peaceful afternoon.
I lean against the edge of the picnic table, watching the little ones race around, their energy boundless as always. Elijah, now almost seven, runs ahead of the group, his confident voice rising above the others as he declares, “I’m it!” The younger kids scatter with delighted squeals, their tiny feet kicking up grass. He’s grown into his role as the big brother of the group, watchful, protective, and always right in the middle of the fun.
Aria, my sweet wild thing, her dark curls bouncing as she darts behind the nearest tree, is joined of course, by Alaric, Victor
