Rose was awake already, of course. She appeared beside him without a sound, her reflection in the water as clear as his own. She looked radiant in the morning light, her skin kissed gold, her eyes as deep and calm as the pool itself.
"You felt it too," she said softly.
He nodded. "It was more than I imagined."
Rose crouched beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder. "The island is not a place. It's a spirit. A memory. A desire. When we offer ourselves to it with honesty, it gives us back truth."
"And what truth did we find?" he asked.
She tilted her head. "That we were never separate. That love is not possession - it's expansion. That ecstasy isn't sin - it's communion."
He looked into her eyes. "You're not just speaking about us. You mean everything."
She smiled. "Everything."
