The Mediterranean sun bathed the private island in golden light, where soft waves lapped against the white-sand shore and palm trees swayed gently in the ocean breeze. The villa sat nestled at the edge of a cove, designed with elegance and serenity in mind, just like Ethan had promised Talia.
This wasn't just a honeymoon. It was a celebration of everything they had endured and the unwavering love that had anchored them through storms.
Talia stepped onto the private deck wrapped in a flowing white robe, hair damp from the infinity pool, the ocean beyond sparkling. Ethan stood shirtless by the glass railing, holding two glasses of champagne.
"For you," he said, handing her a glass and pulling her close.
She accepted it, brushing her lips over his. "I still can't believe this is real."
"You better," he whispered, voice low. "Because I'm not waking up without you again."
They sipped in silence, the kind only lovers truly comfortable with each other could share.
