•Heron's Shop•
Ace's POV
The shop smelled overwhelmingly of dried spices and sweet fruits, a comforting aroma that clung to the wooden shelves. While Heron and his apprentice gathered our order, I examined the wares - rows of dried fruit chips (banana, sweet potato, jackfruit and cassava) arranged neatly in woven baskets. Handcrafted items hung from the ceiling: hats, slippers, and bags all made from sturdy abaca fibers. Jars of herbal teas and ground spices lined the back wall.
A rustling drew my attention. Ovelia had picked up a wide-brimmed hat, her fingers tracing its intricate weave before placing it on her head. When she turned to me, the afternoon light filtering through the window caught in her hair.
"It suits you," I said, unable to suppress a smile. Her cheeks bloomed pink. She ducked her head, the hat's brim obscuring her face - but not before I saw the smile tugging at her lips.
