The morning arrived wrapped in a soft hush, mist curling like a sleepy sigh over the hills. Their cozy cottage smelled faintly of pine, old wood, and leftover marshmallows. The trip had come to its gentle end, but the three of them weren’t quite ready to leave the dream behind.
Inside, sleepy rustles echoed—zippers zipping, drawers being checked twice, and Aadhya half-fighting with Ivaan’s scattered socks as she sat on the edge of the bed, folding his tiny sweaters into the open suitcase.
Each story I write is a quiet labor of love — built word by word, heart to heart. Your support not only honors the effort behind every chapter but also empowers me to create more deeply, more often. If my writing has lingered in your thoughts, moved your heart, or brought you joy, consider becoming a part of this journey. Every contribution is a silent applause that helps the next story come to life.
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