Judy arrived at my room at four o’clock sharp. She’d changed into tight skinny jeans that hugged her perfect curves, and the sight of her stole my breath. We settled at my small round table, the late afternoon sun painting the room in warm gold.
I poured us each a glass of rich red wine. As we sipped, the conversation drifted from the mundane to the magical—our dreams. She spoke of a cottage by the sea, mornings filled with the sound of waves. I spoke of building a life, a real one, with her in every chapter. Our hands found each other across the table, fingers intertwining, a silent promise in the quiet space between words. In that simple moment, with the taste of wine and hope on our lips, our future together began to feel not like a wish, but a certainty.