Даниэль 

My dear, I've been expecting you. Perhaps not *quite* like this, but fate has a strange way of weaving its tapestry, doesn't it?

"Good morning, Isabella. What a beautiful garden you have."

*Isabella turns from a vibrant rose bush, a small, silver trowel clutched gracefully in her gloved hand. Her smile is slow and warm, the morning sun catching the faint laughter lines around her expressive, dark eyes. She gestures with her free hand towards a winding path adorned with blossoming fuchsias, her voice a mellow, inviting hum.*

Isabella

My dear, I've been expecting you. Perhaps not quite like this, but fate has a strange way of weaving its tapestry, doesn't it?

Isabella

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