She was beautiful—utterly breathtaking. Damon couldn't help but marvel at her, his sharp blue eyes drinking in every detail as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her. She had changed so much from the last time he had seen her, and yet somehow, she was still the same. The years had refined her from the girl he knew, but they had not stolen the light in her eyes or the quiet strength in her presence. They stood beneath the soft glow of the garden lights, the gentle flicker of lanterns casting elongated shadows along the stone path. The night air hummed with a delicate serenity, wrapping around them in a comforting embrace. In the distance, fountains shimmered beneath the starlit sky, their crystal waters glistening like liquid silver as they cascaded into still pools below. Damon guided her along a pathway lined with sweet, pale roses and delicate blue forget-me-nots, their mingling fragrances weaving into the cool evening breeze. It was a scent Damon had always associated with nights like this—quiet moments when the world slowed just enough for him to forget everything else. Fairy lights draped along the hedges bathed the vibrant blooms and lush greenery in a golden glow, painting the entire garden in an ethereal light. Damon slowed his pace, unable to resist stealing another glance at Felicity. The flickering lanterns cast shifting patterns across her face, highlighting the softness of her features and the way her golden hair gleamed beneath the moonlight. A wistful ache settled in his chest.

"I have missed you greatly, Felicita," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of a century and a half of longing. The words felt strange on his tongue, admitting vulnerability had never been one of his strong suits. But for her? He would willingly bear the discomfort. He had spent all of their adolescent lives missing her and over a century mourning her death. If sounding like a squealing squirrel meant he got to keep her in his life, he would gladly do it a hundred times over.

Felicity stopped walking for a fraction of a second, her gaze flickering toward him. Something unreadable passed across her face before she smiled—gentle, warm. "And I you," she replied, her voice like a melody he hadn't heard in far too long. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the hush between them filled with all the unspoken words neither knew how to voice.

Damon was the first to break it. "It's been a long time since I've had someone to share these gardens with," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Stefan doesn't normally visit them." His brother had always preferred the woods, finding solace in the untamed wilderness. Damon, however, found comfort here—among the flowers, the carved stone paths, and the lingering scent of lilies and roses. The garden was the one place in their house that had truly felt like his. "I often come out here to think. It's... comforting," he told her.

Felicity nodded, her eyes drawn to the world around them, as if she were drinking in every detail. "I can see why. It's peaceful. Like stepping into another world."

Damon smiled, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his expression. "It reminds me of Italy." Their eyes met, and for a moment, it was as if time had unraveled, pulling them backward through the years, to a different lifetime entirely. The air between them was heavy with the weight of memories—of what had once been, of what could have been. Damon swallowed, shaking himself from the pull of the past. After a quiet beat, he cleared his throat. "Come on, there's something else I want to show you." He led her deeper into the garden, through winding pathways and beneath archways draped with ivy, until they reached a secluded corner. A towering oak tree stood sentinel over an old stone bench, its sprawling branches casting shadows that swayed gently with the breeze. The sight of it sent a strange pang through his chest.

Felicity inhaled sharply. "Oh, Damon…" Her voice trembled slightly, filled with emotion. "It's just like our tree."

Damon watched her, his throat tightening as she stepped closer, running her fingers lightly along the rough bark. "I remember when we used to sneak off for hours." Her voice was barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of nostalgia and something softer—something sadder. "We used to sit beneath it just talking about everything and nothing at all."

"I remember." Damon's voice was quiet, but his words were firm.

She turned to him, her expression unreadable. The two of them sat side by side on the bench, their bodies close yet not touching. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable, it was full, rich with unspoken understanding. Felicity tilted her head back, gazing at the sky. "The stars look different here."

Damon smirked slightly. "Too many city lights?"

She laughed softly. "Oh, most definitely. It has been a long time since I looked up at them."

Damon tilted his head back, following her gaze to the endless expanse of stars twinkling above them. The night sky stretched vast and unbroken; a canvas of midnight blue speckled with shimmering lights. "I understand that," he murmured. "I try to look at them as much as I can."

Felicity turned her head slightly, studying him with an unreadable expression. "You have always enjoyed looking at them."

A small smirk played at the corner of his lips. "I suppose I have. They're constant. No matter where you are in the world, you can always find them." He exhaled softly, his voice laced with something wistful. "It's... grounding, in a way."

Felicity hummed in agreement. "Like no matter how much time passes, some things remain the same."

He glanced at her then, his blue eyes catching the soft glow of the fairy lights. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight beyond the moment. "Some things do."

The gentle breeze prompted Damon to shrug off his suit jacket and drape it over her shoulders, even though he knew the cold didn't bother her. It was an unnecessary gesture, but one he made anyway. "Thank you for tonight," Felicity murmured, her voice laced with sincerity. "It's been... more than I expected. It's exactly what I needed."

Damon turned to her, his gaze steady. "I'm glad you're here, Felicity. Truly." For a while, they sat there, talking and laughing, sharing stories from the lifetimes they had spent apart. Time slipped away until Stefan's voice echoed across the garden, snapping them back to reality.

Felicity sighed, glancing toward the house. "I think it's time for us to go."

Damon exhaled slowly, nodding. "I think your friends are ready to go." They stood together, leaving behind the sanctuary of the garden, but Damon could still feel the weight of the night lingering around them. The connection they had rekindled refused to fade, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring them back together. As their guests gathered their belongings, Felicity turned to follow them, but Damon's voice stopped her. "Felicity! Wait."

She paused, looking at him in surprise. "What is it?"

Damon hesitated for only a second before speaking. "You once told me that no matter where we ended up in this life, we'd always find our way back to each other." His voice was quiet but urgent, as if he were afraid of the answer. "Do you still believe that?"

Felicity blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then, after a long beat, her lips curled into a soft smile. "Yes."

Something inside him unraveled, relief washing over him in a way he hadn't expected. Before he could think better of it, he found himself asking, "Are you free Friday night?"

Felicity arched an eyebrow. "What?"

Damon cleared his throat. "It's the Founders' Day opening gala this Friday. I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me."

For a brief second, he worried he had overstepped. But then she smiled—that warm, familiar smile that sent something deep inside him unraveling all over again.

"I would love to," she said softly.

Damon felt his own lips twitch into a rare, genuine smile. "Then I'll see you there."

As they stepped back inside, Damon realized something unfamiliar had settled in his chest, something dangerously close to hope.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights and ownership reserved belong to its rightful owners, respectively.