A Second Beginning
Months later, in a community garden that smelled of rain and tomato vines, he met Lila. Dirt under her nails, laughter like water. An architect for affordable housing, she asked more questions than she answered and listened like it mattered. She brought basil to my doorstep and noticed—really noticed—the stitches on the quilt.
“These are stories you can touch,” she whispered, tracing Henry’s plaid. “What a gift.”
The Wedding That Fit in a Garden
They married beneath Henry’s oak, with thirty chairs, mason jars of Lila’s flowers, and a playlist from someone’s phone. Liam wore his graduation suit; Lila wore vintage cotton and joy. They asked guests to donate to homes families could actually afford. I unpicked Cassandra’s name and embroidered Lila’s. When I gave them the quilt, Lila cried the soft, grateful tears of someone who understands the cost of time.
