The following evening, Myra was bustling in the kitchen, the warm aroma of roasting chicken and simmering vegetables filling the cozy cottage. She moved with practiced efficiency, chopping herbs and stirring sauces, her mind occasionally drifting back to Freya despite her attempts to focus on the task at hand. A knock on the door announced the arrival of Isa and Gareth, and Myra offered a welcoming smile as she ushered them in.

  Isa’s face beamed as she embraced Myra’s grandmother, their genuine affection evident in their warm exchange. Gareth stood a little behind his mother, a polite smile on his face as he greeted Myra and her grandmother. He seemed genuinely pleased to be there, his gaze occasionally lingering on Myra with an undeniable hint of admiration.

  The atmosphere around the dinner table was cheerful and convivial. Isa recounted stories of the vilge, her ughter infectious, while Gareth listened attentively, occasionally adding his own thoughtful remarks. Myra’s grandmother, clearly enjoying the company, shared anecdotes from her younger days, creating a comfortable and welcoming ambiance. Despite her earlier reservations, Myra found herself appreciating Isa’s genuine kindness and Gareth’s pleasant demeanor.

  As the meal progressed, Myra’s grandmother suddenly spoke, a thoughtful expression on her face. “My dear,” she said to Myra, “would you mind fetching me a bit of that feverfew from the garden? Isa mentioned she’s been having a touch of a headache tely, and it always seems to do the trick.”

  Myra nodded readily, happy for a brief respite from the subtle, yet persistent, gnces Gareth kept sending her. “Of course, Grandma,” she replied, rising from her chair.

  Before Myra could reach the door, Gareth was already on his feet. “I’d be happy to help you, Myra,” he offered with a warm smile. “I remember your grandmother mentioning her lovely herb garden. I’d be interested to see it.”

  A subtle unease settled in Myra’s stomach. While Gareth’s eagerness seemed genuine, she couldn’t shake a faint feeling of discomfort at the prospect of being alone with him in the secluded garden. Her interactions with men had always been polite but distant, her heart and thoughts currently consumed by a connection that defied societal norms. The idea of Gareth’s potentially romantic interest, however innocent, felt like an unwelcome intrusion into her complicated inner world. She offered a slightly strained smile, hoping her reluctance wasn’t too obvious.

  “Oh, that’s alright, Gareth,” But seeing the genuine eagerness in his eyes and not wanting to appear impolite, she relented. “Well, thank you, Gareth. It is just out back.”

  She led him through the cottage’s back door and into the small, meticulously tended herb garden. The evening air was fragrant with the mingled scents of vender, rosemary, and chamomile, the setting sun casting long shadows across the neat rows of pnts. Myra pointed to a leafy bush with delicate white flowers. “That’s the feverfew,” she expined, gesturing towards it.

  Gareth’s eyes widened with genuine appreciation as he surveyed the garden. “Wow, Myra, this is beautiful,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the vibrant greenery. “Your grandmother wasn’t exaggerating. You must have quite the green thumb to keep it looking so healthy.”

  He turned to Myra, his smile warm and sincere. “It’s even prettier than you described it at the festival,” he added, his eyes meeting hers for a moment longer than necessary, a clear admiration in his gaze. “Just like you said, a little patch of tranquility.”

  “Yes,” Myra replied, her voice a little breathier than intended, as she bent down to pluck a few sprigs of feverfew. She kept her focus on the task, avoiding his direct gaze. “Grandma has always loved her herbs. She says they hold little bits of magic.” She snipped the leaves carefully, trying to appear absorbed in the task, a subtle attempt to create a bit of space between them and steer the conversation away from personal compliments. The lingering scent of Freya, a subtle reminder of their intense encounter, seemed to cling to her, making Gareth’s proximity feel even more unsettling.