** Paige’s POV **

The inside of the tent is nothing like the memory burned into me from our teens. Back then, the tent had been cramped and cold, the ground hard beneath the sleeping bag, and it had smelt slightly damp and mouldy. We’d been so young, both of us fumbling and overwhelmed, and afterward I’d been left with only silence when he disappeared.

This is warmth and comfort, a bed layered with pillows and blankets, lanterns hanging from the poles, flowers tucked into ...