It was late summer when Lucian walked into the small pottery studio on the edge of town — not looking for anything in particular, just the smell of clay and the promise of quiet. Aria was at the wheel, hands deep in terracotta, entirely absorbed. She didn't look up for a full minute.

He came back the following Saturday, and the one after that. Eventually she handed him a lump of clay and told him to stop watching and start making. They've been building things together ever since.