A short while later, Anisa emerged dressed in a thermal top, long jeans, and a woollen scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Yugh led her out to his car, and they drove in a companionable silence, the city gradually giving way to the sleeping countryside. Anisa's mind was a whirl of curiosity, the fear of the nightmare receding with each passing mile. đ
After nearly an hour, Yugh pulled over at the foot of a lofty hill. Before them, stretching into the soft gloom, was an immense meadow. But this was no ordinary field. As the first hints of pre-dawn light seeped into the sky, it revealed an ocean of flowers. The entire plain was blanketed in blooms that seemed to glow with their own ethereal light in the twilight.
Anisa stepped out, her breath catching. She was standing in a sea of flowers. Delicate Snowdrops nodded like pearls on green strings. Pristine White Hellebores and vibrant purple Crocuses dotted the landscape, their colours deepening as the light grew. Interwoven were clusters of Winter Heath with their tiny bell-shaped flowers, bright yellow Winter Aconite, and the pale, fragrant stars of Winter Jasmine. The air was cold, crisp, and sweetly perfumed. đ
A pure, unexpected joy washed over her. They spent the following hours in that private paradise, walking through the floral waves, sitting at the hill's base talking of everything and nothing, their words carried away by the gentle, frost-tipped breeze. The complete solitude, the breathtaking beauty, acted as a balm on her wounded spirit. By the time the first true rays of the sun gilded the hilltops, painting the flower field in gold, her heart felt light and clean. She thanked Yugh not just with words, but with a look of profound gratitude that spoke volumes. Together, they watched the sunrise, a silent promise of new beginnings hanging between them, before driving back to the world. đ