Then, Tenetta looked at her with longing in his eyes—hoping that the depth of his love would be conveyed through that gaze alone.

Isabelle looked back at him with the same intensity.

It was a dim, moonlit night, yet they recognized each other without fail. He wanted her, and she wanted him. They were like two waves that had risen from opposite directions, crashing together with force—different in origin, yet already tangled so deeply that they could no longer be separated.

After gazing up at him for a long moment, Isabelle rose onto her toes. She brushed her lips briefly against his, then wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“Let’s leave quietly. We can write to our families later—somehow, it’ll work out.”

They secured passage on a ship bound for a neighboring kingdom without delay. Isabelle boarded with a parasol to shield herself from the spring sunlight, while Tenetta carried both his belongings and hers.

The woman who could be gentle as a lamb one moment teased him the next, calling him nothing more than a porter. And then, lifting her small chin, she burst into laughter.

It was that impulsive, irreverent laughter he loved so dearly.

Disguised as a newlywed foreign couple, they wandered from place to place in search of a town where they could settle.

In doing so, the seasons shifted from spring to summer—but even the blazing sunlight felt like a blessing.

Whenever the cheap carriage they had hastily chosen rattled along the road, Isabelle would lean against his shoulder and hum softly. Tenetta would memorize her songs, only to twist them into something ridiculous and sing them back to her.

One day, they came upon a field filled with low white summer flowers.

“Look at that.”

Isabelle, excited, tapped his shoulder, waking him from a nap. He glanced out the window and offered a brief comment.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Can we stop here? I want to walk through that field.”

They were close to their destination, and it would have been easier to settle in the town first and return—but Tenetta simply nodded and tapped on the carriage wall.

As long as he paid enough, the hired carriage would wait.

The driver, given extra for the day, even offered to ride ahead into town and bring back some food. To reassure his passengers, he left the carriage at the roadside and rode off alone.

Isabelle rummaged through her luggage and pulled out a shawl.

“I don’t want my skin getting tanned.”

Draping the green silk—its edges delicately adorned with twisted gold thread—over her light outdoor dress, she turned to him.

“Well?”

Tenetta looked at her and thought, not for the first time, that no matter what she wore—even something no better than a scrap of cloth—she would still be beautiful.

“The tailors who make your clothes must all be blessed.”

“What do you mean?”

“That you turn all their trial and error into art, my love.”

Before she could fully process his words, Tenetta stepped down from the carriage.

A beat later, understanding dawned on her—and Isabelle called out from behind him.

“Are you saying my shawl is ugly?”

Tenetta burst out laughing.

Isabelle rushed over and pinched his side.

“What do you know about clothes, anyway?”

Feigning innocence, Tenetta pleaded for mercy, claiming that, having grown up poor, he had never properly learned how to dress—and that a noble lady like her ought to show him some compassion.

Isabelle gave a haughty little scoff and brushed past him with quick steps.

Under the sunlight, the green silk shimmered like a beetle’s shell.

Holding back a smile, Tenetta followed her, parting the wild grass as he walked. Wherever she passed, a fresh, sweet floral scent lingered in the air.

Deep within the field, beneath a tree heavy with leaves, Isabelle stood waiting. She tapped her foot impatiently as she looked at him.

“Hurry up and lay your coat down. I want to sit in the shade and enjoy the view.”

As a fortunate man granted the honor of attending such a lady, Tenetta readily offered up his coat. Still, he wasn’t foolish enough to miss the chance to tease her.

He remarked that her small frame was mercilessly trampling the humble clothes of a poor country man—right up until Isabelle, her face flushed red, nearly lunged at him with enough force to leave a bruise on his side.

After tormenting him to her heart’s content with her slender fingers, Isabelle quickly composed herself into a proper lady the moment the driver returned.

Tenetta let out a theatrical groan as he got to his feet, then chuckled under his breath. Isabelle was glaring at him.

The driver had brought back bread filled with ham, cheese, and vegetables, along with a few apples and a bottle of juice. With the small knife he always carried, Tenetta sliced an apple and tucked the pieces into Isabelle’s bread.

Once they had finished their meal, Isabelle leaned her head against his shoulder. Warm sunlight stretched across their legs as they lay side by side.

Her foot nudged his calf lightly.

“Wouldn’t it be beautiful to see the stars from a place like this?”

Tenetta looked down at her, her profile softened by the peaceful shade of the tree, then stood up.

After paying the driver for the day and asking him to return around sunset with some proper food, he gathered a cloak for her to use and a book before heading back to Isabelle.

That night, just as she had said, the sky was breathtaking.

Tenetta picked a small wildflower and tucked it behind her ear, then began naming the constellations he knew, one by one.

Isabelle listened quietly before turning, nestling into his arms. Resting her ear over his chest, where she could hear the steady beat of his heart, she asked softly,

“If we lived here… would we be able to see a sky like this every summer?”

That was enough for them to decide to settle in a village not far from the field.

The villagers welcomed the newcomers warmly. Though they were clearly foreigners, they blended in quickly. As a young, strong, and capable man, Tenetta was soon being called here and there to help with labor, while Isabelle followed him around, parasol in hand.

“You look really good when you’re chopping firewood!”

One day, when they had gone up the mountain to gather wood, Isabelle suddenly called out. She was sitting atop a neatly stacked pile of logs, a handkerchief spread beneath her. The sound of the axe striking wood was so loud that she had to raise her voice to be heard.

Tenetta split the last log and rested the axe against the stump. As the noise faded, he answered in a normal tone, now that the forest had grown quiet again.

“Thank you for announcing your opinion to the entire mountain. If squirrels and deer come to admire me tomorrow, I won’t be surprised.”

Isabelle, who had been idly twirling her parasol, shot him a glare. Watching her—unable to hide the intensity of her gaze—Tenetta’s lips curled upward.

“You’re quite pretty too. Ridiculous, but pretty.”

“What?”

“You’re dressed like you’re going to a ball.”

Today, Isabelle wore a yellow cotton dress with delicate pleats and a pair of red shoes. Her dark hair, braided like stalks of wheat, was adorned with white daisies she had picked along the way.

She had not forgotten her lace gloves or her parasol either. She looked as lovely as a doll from a toy shop—but there was no denying that she stood out against the rugged backdrop of the mountain.

Perhaps irritated by his teasing, Isabelle sprang to her feet.

“I’m going home.”

“If I were you, I’d wait for your husband so we can go together. The forest spirits might mistake you for one of their own and carry you off.”

Tenetta spun the axe idly in his palm as he said it.

“Even if you call for help then, those wild fairies won’t let you go.”

Realizing that he was praising her appearance in his own teasing way, Isabelle’s eyes narrowed.

“Every compliment that comes out of your mouth sounds like an insult.”

“And out of all the men in the world, you chose someone like that to be your husband.”

He said it with the pride of someone who seemed to give thanks for that fact every morning. Isabelle shot back sharply,

“That’s not the case yet, is it?”

She hooked her parasol lightly over her shoulder and turned away.

Blinking in surprise, Tenetta tossed aside what he was holding and quickly followed after her.

“What do you mean? Isabelle!”

When he caught up and grabbed her shoulder, Isabelle blinked at him with feigned innocence.

“You really were worried I might get carried off by fairies, weren’t you?”

Tenetta frowned. With the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat gathered at the tip of his chin from working in the heat.

“You know why I followed you.”

“Well, you certainly looked a bit desperate.”

“Don’t even think about taking another man as your husband. You’ve already married me.”

Even in their first life, what they had shared had undoubtedly been a marriage—imperfect though it may have been.

Wasn’t it?

Tenetta drew in a sharp breath.

The thought of a man who didn’t even exist—someone who might take her from him—drove him nearly mad with jealousy.

No… this wouldn’t do.

He needed to make it clear again.

In a tone that was half warning, half coaxing—directed at the woman he loved, clever and infuriating—he said,

“Marry me again. Don’t even think about slipping away this time—understand…?”