The morning light filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow over the garden where Jumòké and Bámidélé lay tangled in each other's arms. Their bodies were still pressed close, their hearts beating in a shared rhythm, and for the first time, they both felt a sense of peace—a sense of completion.

  Jumòké’s hand rested over Bámidélé’s chest, her fingers tracing the steady beat of his heart. “We can’t go back now, can we?” she asked softly, her voice thick with the emotions that ran deep between them.

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  “No,” Bámidélé replied, his voice low and steady. “We can’t. But I don’t want to. Not anymore.”

  They lay there for a long time, the weight of the night’s passion settling between them, until the world beyond their secret garden began to stir. The distant sounds of the estate’s waking life seemed so far away, so unimportant in comparison to the space they had created for themselves.

  The rest of their story, full of passion, struggle, and unyielding devotion, had only just begun.