The cabin was quiet in the morning light, its wide windows opening to pine and sky. Narra floors gleamed underfoot, walls warm-toned and simple, the air scented with coffee. Emma moved with practiced ease—starting the coffee maker, showering under the cool spray, dressing in her crisp blouse, slacks, and white coat.
At the hospital, her day flowed with the rhythm of lives entrusted to her care: a nervous young mother soothed, a safe delivery celebrated, advice offered with a steady voice. By dusk, she was weary but satisfied, her work stitched with the quiet victories of healing.
Returning to the cabin, she set dinner on the table—rice steaming, adobo fragrant, vegetables bright. She curled on the couch, TV humming softly, the silence pressing close.
Then—keys in the lock.
Her heart leapt. She was already on her feet when the door opened. Adrian stepped in, tall, handsome, carrying the exhaustion of travel but also the spark of triumph. He had just returned from Manila, where he'd spent three days at a biology summit, presenting research on native flora that drew both respect and curiosity.
She ran into his arms, kissing him before he could even set his bag down.
"I missed you," she whispered.
"I missed you more," he answered, holding her tightly. Two years of marriage, and the fire between them had not dimmed.
"Come, tara na, let's eat. We need to get to court—the duwendes are making havoc again," she teased, leading him toward the table.
Adrian sighed, amusement tugging at his lips. "Let them wait. I have a better and more exciting activity with my wife."
Her laughter filled the cabin, unguarded and bright. He swept her into his arms and carried her toward their bedroom, leaving dinner to grow cold on the table.
Outside, the forest whispered. Inside, they were proof that two worlds—human and elemental—could meet without losing themselves.