It wasn’t just that she looked beautiful. It was that she looked like she belonged. Elodie was still fighting for this place even though every logical reason told her not to. Most people would’ve given up by now—hell, they would’ve packed up and gone the second the will was read. But Elodie was out there with her hands in the soil, probably whispering soft encouragements to vines like they were old friends or acting like pumpkins needed pep talks and stubborn hope to grow. She was breaking my damn heart.
