The night after the reception settled over the island with a softness that felt almost protective. By the time the last guests had begun to drift toward their rooms and the children had been coaxed into sleep or near-sleep, the house itself seemed to breathe more slowly, as though it understood that its greatest task for the day had already been fulfilled. Ren stood alone for a moment at the top of the terrace steps, looking out over the dark sea, while the sound of muffled conversation and the occasional clink of glass drifted up from the room behind him. The wedding had happened. The reception had happened. The final public shape of the day was behind them now, and what remained was the strange, warm silence that follows a moment people have been preparing for too long to believe it is real.
