Chapter Text
The morning sun spilled like gold across My Cottage’s gardens, glinting off the dew and catching in the soft tendrils of Sophie’s dark hair. She stood near the rose arbor, book in hand, her expression one of quiet concentration. Benedict watched her from the terrace, a smile tugging at his lips.
“You know,” he called, strolling down the steps toward her, “you’ve been standing in precisely that spot for nearly an hour. The roses will begin to blush under such scrutiny.”
Sophie glanced up, amusement bright in her eyes. “I assure you, my attention is entirely innocent. Unlike some gentlemen who spend their mornings loitering about, watching ladies work.”
“Loitering?” Benedict pressed a hand to his heart. “Madam, I am inspired. There is a vast difference.”
“Is there?” she teased.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “There is when the object of one’s inspiration looks as you do in the morning light.”
She tried to fight her smile, lowering her gaze to the sketchbook. “You are incorrigible.”
“And yet you married me.”
“An act of questionable judgment, clearly.”
He laughed, the sound easy and warm. “Perhaps. But it has brought us here, one hundred days.”
She blinked, puzzled. “A hundred days since what?”
“”Since our story began anew,” he said softly, brushing a gloved finger under her chin. “One hundred days since you came back into my life and I finally saw the truth”
Her breath caught, the fondness in his tone melting any trace of teasing.
“And what truth did you see?” she asked quietly.
Benedict smiled, eyes full of mischief and devotion alike. “My future. Even if I was too much of a fool to know it then.”
He bent, kissed her knuckles with a painter’s reverence, and whispered, “A hundred days, my love and a lifetime beyond.”