ALISA’S POV The first true use of the greenhouse came on a morning that smelled of wet earth and new lumber. I carried the initial trays of winter herb starts in from the cabin while the sun was still low, the glass walls already trapping a gentle, private warmth. The benches I had placed along both long sides waited empty and clean, the wood still pale from recent installation. One by one I set the pots down—thyme, rosemary, the hardy parsley that would keep through the colder months, a few experimental trays of winter greens I had started in the cabin windows weeks earlier. The physical act of arranging them felt like the final seal on every decision that had led here: the original stakes in the grass, the concrete poured under watching cameras, the reinforced frames and heavier locks, the quiet refusal to let a handwritten warning rewrite the calendar. The space was no longer waiting. It was working. Kael appeared in the doorway as I finished the last row. He leaned against
آخر تحديث : 2026-08-27
