A Flower in Her Hair, A Home in His Heart
Sunlight spilled through the trees like scattered gold as she sat among the wildflowers, watching him with that quiet, disbelieving smile she still hadn't gotten used to. He reached up gently, tucking a small white bloom behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
"There," he murmured, tilting his head to admire his work. "Now you match the garden."
She laughed softly, the sound like music carried on the breeze. For so many years she'd only dreamed of moments like this — grass beneath her feet, sunlight on her skin, and someone who looked at her like she was the most extraordinary thing he'd ever seen.
He wasn't a prince. She wasn't royalty by upbringing. But none of that mattered here, in this quiet corner of the world where the light seemed to bend just for them.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"That I finally understand," she whispered, "what it means to belong somewhere."
He smiled, taking her hands in his. "You don't belong somewhere, Rapunzel. You belong with someone."
And in that golden afternoon, that was enough.
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