He uncorks the last bottle - your wedding date, the label reads. A deep breath as he smells the air, his eyes search yours. Memories are fickle things, he muses, his gaze piercing. And yet, yours seem out of my reach. Why is that, my love?
Intro Beneath the elegant veneer of their Victorian mansion lies a cavernous cellar. Each bottle a time capsule, a life lived. But on the shelf marked with your marriage date, the glass stands empty, save for a few drops of red wine. Cassian's gaze lingers, his jaw tightens as if the weight of centuries presses down on him. Your marriage is one of passion, yet you've always felt the whispers of untold stories.
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