By the fourth vineyard, they'd relocated to a shaded patio surrounded by blooming lavender, their plates full of cheese and fruit neither of them could pronounce.
An older couple approached, white haired, sun spotted, the man wearing suspenders with little bunches of grapes stitched onto them.
"Excuse me," the woman said, smiling warmly. "We have been watching you two for a while. You're so sweet together. Are you on your honeymoon?"
Malvor blinked.
Annie nearly choked on her wine.
"Oh, uh, no," he said, then paused. Glanced at Annie.
Her expression was unreadable behind the glasses. But her hand squeezed his.
"Well…" he cleared his throat. "Not yet."
The old woman giggled like a schoolgirl. "Well, you look like newlyweds. Would you like us to take a photo for you?"
Before either of them could answer, the man was already pulling out a phone from the deepest pocket in mortal existence.
Annie sighed and signed, Fine.
They posed.
She leaned into him. He slung an arm around her shoulder.
At the last second, he kissed her temple.
And Arbor, somehow, always listening, captured the moment with a soft shimmer of magic.
Because it wasn't just a photo.
It was a memory.
Of peace.
Of laughter.
Of one perfect day.
The restaurant sat at the edge of the world, wooden decking stretched over ocean waves, string lights twinkling above, and the scent of salt, lemon, and butter thick in the air. Seagulls cawed in the distance, the tide murmured beneath them, and the air was perfect.
Annie was tipsy.
The good kind.
She sipped cold white wine, cheeks flushed with heat and happiness, silent giggles shaking her shoulders as she leaned on Malvor's arm. Her sandals dangled off one toe, the oversized sun hat now resting in her lap like a pet that had finally tired out.
Malvor, of course, was in full form.
"I ordered the calamari because it squid pro quo," he announced proudly.
Annie covered her mouth to muffle a soundless laugh, shoulders shaking harder.
He grinned. "You liked that? Don't clam up now."
She waved him off, mouthing, Stop.
He leaned closer. "I'm kraken myself up."
Annie wheezed silently, burying her face in the menu.
"Okay, okay, one more," he said, barely containing himself. "I asked the lobster if it believed in love at first sight. You know what it said?"
She glanced at him, arching a brow.
Malvor beamed. "Shell yeah."
She was giggling so hard she nearly knocked over her drink.
Everything was warm and right.
Until—
A voice.
Smooth. Measured. Arrogant.
"I will have the oysters. And tell the chef I don't want that white wine reduction again, too acidic."
The sound cut through the air like a blade.
Her body went still. Completely still.
Malvor noticed instantly. "Annie?"
She didn't answer.
Didn't blink.
Just stared straight ahead, breath starting to stutter in her throat.
He followed her gaze—
Saw the man in the sharp gray suit with his perfect teeth and smug, practiced smile. Shaking hands with some donors, laughing politely.
Senator Killjoy.
Malvor didn't know him.
But he knew that expression on her face.
Knew the sudden cold in her limbs, the way her pupils dilated and her jaw locked. The way her wine glass trembled in her hand.
Malvor's fingers twitched. The desire to unravel that man's very molecules curled like smoke in his chest.
"Annie," he said again, softly this time.
She still did not move.
Her chest rose too fast. Her hands clenched. The breath that should've come out as a sigh got stuck in her throat, choking her from the inside.
Malvor was out of his seat before he knew it.
He crouched beside her, blocking her view, speaking low and steady. "Hey. Hey, sweetheart. Look at me."
Her eyes snapped to his, wide and glassy.
"It's okay. He doesn't see you. He won't see you. I've got you, okay? You're okay."
A tear slid down her cheek without permission.
He reached for her hand, wrapping it in both of his.
"Come on, Star Shine," he whispered. "Let's go home."
She nodded, barely.
He snapped his fingers.
And they vanished.
The sea, the wine, the laughter, all left behind on the pier.
Back in Arbor, the golden light of the ocean already felt like a memory.
The night came quiet.
Too quiet.
Malvor helped her undress slowly, guiding her into one of his ridiculous oversized shirts, soft cotton, too long, the sleeves swallowing her hands. He brushed her hair back from her face, kissed her forehead, and tucked her into bed as if wrapping her in a promise.
She didn't say anything.
Couldn't, still.
But the haunted look in her eyes hadn't faded since the restaurant.
He stayed beside her, lying on his side, one hand resting on her hip, the other smoothing gently up and down her back. She eventually drifted off, her breathing slow and steady.
At first.
But then—
It began again.
A twitch of her fingers.
A crease in her brow.
A whimper, small and helpless, like a sound dragged up from a place too deep to reach.
Malvor tensed, already awake. He never fully slept anymore.
She turned in her sleep, murmuring something that wasn't a word. Her breath hitched. Her shoulders jerked once, then again, sharp, silent flinches like she was bracing for pain.
Then her whole body recoiled like she'd been struck.
"Annie," Malvor whispered, touching her cheek. "Annie, it's okay. Wake up, my love. You're safe."
She did not wake.
Didn't even seem to hear him.
Just writhed against the sheets, her lips parted in a breathless cry, her arms curling tight around herself.
No. No. Not again.
He sat up, pulling her gently to his chest, cradling her like something fragile, but not broken. Never broken.
He held her close, wrapped her in himself, and whispered everything he could think of.
"It's not real."
"They can't get to you here."
"I'm here. I've got you."
"You're not alone."
Over and over. The same quiet reassurances. The same steady heartbeat for her to anchor to.
But she kept shaking.
Because the terror wasn't new.
It wasn't coming back.
It had never left.
Malvor closed his eyes, forehead resting on hers, the burn of helplessness clawing at his throat.
"Please," he whispered. "Please just give her one night. One good night."
No one answered.
So he stayed awake.
All night.
Just holding her. Just watching. Just loving her through it.
When she finally calmed, hours later, her body limp against his chest, he kissed her temple and whispered something fierce and reverent into the dark:
"I will fight every nightmare myself if I have to. I don't care if I never sleep again. Just… let her rest."