For Me,There Is Only You |18+|

60. The Harvest Festival

The harvest festival in the nearby village Ansel took me to was just as I had imagined—loud, and brimming with energy.

The streets buzzed with people drifting from one stall to another, laughter and chatter weaving through the air.

The scent of roasted nuts, fresh bread, and something sweet—maybe caramel—wrapped around me, making my stomach tighten with hunger.

Ansel walked beside me, steady and unbothered. I, on the other hand, wasn't used to crowds, of people coming from every direction.

Every time someone brushed too close, his hand found the small of my back, guiding me closer to him.

He didn't comment on it, didn't even look at me—just did it, like it was second nature.

Sighing, I let my eyes roam.

Colorful banners stretched between wooden stalls, swaying gently in the evening breeze. Lights flickered, their warm glow pushing back the creeping dusk.

Vendors shouted their best deals, their voices blending with the laughter of children darting past, hands sticky from caramel apples.

Somewhere in the distance, music played—light, cheerful, impossible to ignore.

I slowed my pace, my gaze darting from one thing to another.

There was too much to take in.

Handmade jewelry glimmered under the light, wool scarves lay folded in tidy stacks, and delicate clay figurines of deer and birds stood on display, each painted with careful precision.

It felt like stepping into the pages of an old storybook.

"This place is..." I trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Lively?" Ansel offered; his tone amused.

I let out a quiet huff of laughter. "That's one way to put it."

We wandered for nearly half an hour, moving with the ebb and flow of the crowd.

I took everything in slowly, letting the energy of the festival settle around me.

I hadn't realized until now how much I missed this—just walking freely among people, no weight pressing down on me, no invisible chains holding me back.

At Ansel's house, even if I was never physically restrained, I had still felt like a prisoner at times, trapped by the limits of where I could go.

But right now, at this very moment, I was feeling free.

We walked a little further, and the bustling street opened into a small square, where a flower stall stood out among the rest.

Bundles of fresh blooms filled wooden crates—roses, daisies, lily, lavender, and others I couldn't name.

But what caught my attention were the delicate flower tiaras hanging from the top of the stall, their petals woven together in soft pastel colors.

I slowed my steps, just for a moment, admiring the delicate flower crowns.

And then—

"Oh, young man!"

I snapped out of my thoughts as the shopkeeper, an older woman with silver-streaked hair, called out to Ansel.

Her eyes crinkled with delight as she took us in, and before either of us could say a word, she beamed.

"You should buy a tiara for your wife."