Semua Bab The Whispers of my heart: Bab 81 - Bab 90

The wind stilled.The flowers ceased their sway.Even the cat, as if sensing the shift in the air, lifted its head, blinked slowly, and padded quietly into the tall grass, leaving the bread behind.And then — as if drawn by something deeper than instinct, something woven into the very rhythm of her soul — Sophia lifted her head.Not suddenly.Not with shock.But slowly.Like a flower turning toward the sun after days of storm.Her eyes moved across the garden, past the wild phlox, past the daisies trembling in the breeze, toward the edge of the willow trees.And there he was.Daniel.Standing where he had no right to be.Where he had been banished from.Where she had dared to hope he might come.And yet, here he was.Not rushing.Not calling.Just being.Watching her.Breathing the same air.Alive in the space between them.Their eyes met.And in that single moment, the world fell away.No parents.No anger.No silence.No distance.Just them.And love — not loud, not desperate, but d

Breaking through a made up mindThe garden had fallen into a soft, golden hush.The sun had slipped behind the hills, leaving the sky painted in quiet streaks of lavender and rose. The air was cool now, carrying the scent of wild thyme and crushed clover. The lake lay still, a mirror of the first stars blinking awake above. The cat had returned, curled near the roots of the willow, watching them with half-lidded eyes.Sophia still sat close to Daniel, her head resting against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her like a promise. She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken. But the silence between them had changed — no longer peaceful, but charged, as if the world beyond the trees was pressing in.Daniel knew what he had to say.He didn’t want to.But he had to.“Sophia,” he said, voice low, careful.She lifted her head slightly, turning to look at him.“Please, i have to take you home,” he said.She didn’t react at first.Just studied his face — the furrow between his brows, the tension in his

The car rolled steadily down the winding road, headlights cutting through the soft darkness. Trees rose on either side, their silhouettes tall and quiet against the night sky. Inside, the air was still — not heavy, not cold, but full, like the silence after a storm has passed.Sophia sat in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window, eyes half-closed. The tension in her shoulders had eased, just slightly, since they’d left the garden. She hadn’t spoken much. Just watched the world blur past — fields, fences, the occasional flicker of a distant porch light.Daniel kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near hers, close but not touching. He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. Just drove, steady and calm, the hum of the engine the only sound between them.Then he reached for his phone.Sophia turned her head slightly, watching as he scrolled through his contacts, found the name, and pressed Call.It rang twice.Then a voice — trembling, fragile — answered.“Daniel?”“Mrs. Thoma

Nathan led them through the small apartment — warm, unpolished, full of life. A worn leather couch faced a stone fireplace, a quilt draped over the back. Shelves lined one wall, packed with old books, framed photos, and a dusty trophy from a long-ago rodeo. The kitchen opened into the living space, the scent of rosemary and garlic still lingering from Elena’s earlier cooking.He turned to Daniel first.“You’ll take the guest room,” he said, nodding down the hall. “It’s small. The mattress sags in the middle. And the heater clicks like a time bomb. But it’s warm.”Daniel smirked. “I’ve slept on worse.”Nathan glanced at Sophia. “And you—”“She’s not sleeping in there with me,” Daniel cut in, holding up a hand.Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. Not under my roof.”Sophia rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”“What?” Nathan said, grinning. “I’ve got standards. And boundaries. And a perfectly good air mattress in the closet.”They all laughed.And just like that, the air in the ro

It started by the dying fire.Sophia and Elena sat side by side on a log, wrapped in the same wool blanket, watching the embers flicker.“We should bake when we get back,” Sophia said, sipping her cocoa.Elena turned to her. “Like… a lot of baking?”Sophia grinned. “Like, everything. Banana bread. Cinnamon rolls. Blueberry muffins. Chocolate chip cookies. Maybe even a pie.”Elena’s eyes lit up. “With homemade crust?”“Obviously.”They didn’t speak again. Just looked at each other — not as sister-in-law and sister, not as new friends, but as co-conspirators.And behind them, Nathan and Daniel sat on the other side of the fire, pretending to be absorbed in stacking wood.But they were listening.Nathan leaned toward Daniel, voice low, teasing. “Are they trying to impress us?”Daniel smirked. “I don’t remember the last time someone baked for me.”“Careful,” Nathan said. “They might be poisoning us.”“Or fattening us up,” Daniel added. “Like Thanksgiving turkeys.”They both chuckled.Soph