AN AFTERNOON AT THE VINEYARD

I stepped out of the car, taking a moment to breathe it in. It was beautiful, the kind of place that made you want to linger a little longer, even if you didn't belong.

The vineyard sprawled across the countryside like a painting come to life, rows of grapevines stretching endlessly under a sky brushed with soft autumn hues. The crisp air carried a hint of sweetness, mingling with the faint hum of distant conversations and the clinking of glasses from the outdoor terrace.

Mark came around the car, his gaze sweeping over the scene with the same calm precision he seemed to apply to everything. "Not bad," he remarked, his tone neutral but not unkind.

"It's beautiful," I replied, adjusting my scarf against the cool breeze.

He glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable but far less guarded than usual. "Let's check in. Lunch is in half an hour, and they've set up a tour for us after."