Nellie, Nellie, sweet little Nellie, shy little Nellie, thicc thighs Nellie, mine-o-mine Nellie.
The tune danced through Lor's mind, a playful, teasing refrain that had rooted itself somewhere between leaving Ameth's cottage and now, spilling out in a low hum as he wandered the sun-warmed streets.
Maybe it was the rhythm of the cobblestones under his boots, or the thought of Nellie's soft, nervous smile—whatever it was, it curled his lips into a grin that felt like mischief and promise all at once.
Today, with her, he knew exactly what he'd ask, and the anticipation thrummed in his chest like a plucked string.
The lane to Nellie's estate veered off the city's bustling heart, winding through tall hedges that softened the breeze and filled the air with the delicate scent of blooming jasmine.
The world quieted here, the market's clamor fading to a distant murmur, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the faint chirp of sparrows.
