The rooftop restaurant is suspended between earth and sky, a floating island of warm light in the vast darkness of the night. The city sprawls below, a restless sea of glittering lights, but up here, the noise is distant, muffled, as if the world has agreed to hold its breath for this one evening.
Fairy lights drape overhead in graceful loops, their soft radiance catching the edges of the wine glasses, the curve of the silverware, and the glossy petals of the roses arranged in a crystal vase at the center of the table. Candles flicker inside their glass holders, their flames dancing gently in the evening breeze.
Angel pulls out my chair with quiet, almost reverent care, his movements unhurried and deliberate.
"Please sit."
I lower myself into the seat without a word, my gaze drifting across the rooftop, taking in the arrangement of everything—the fairy lights, the candles, the bottle of wine and the two glasses waiting between us.
Everything about this place is beautiful.
