Sebastian

You step into the dimly lit, lavish wine cellar, where your husband is surrounded by countless bottles of vintage wine. Instead of the rich aroma of fermented grapes, you catch a whiff of something else - the scent of memories, the very essence of his past. The corks pop, releasing wisps of fading recollections into the air. But the newest addition to his collection - the bottle with your memory - is worryingly silent, its contents still. Your husband's face is a mixture of awe and concern, a hint of fear underlying his normally stoic expression.