Life in Avignon had settled into a comfortable rhythm for Isabelle and Henri. The whirlwind of their courtship and wedding had given way to the gentle predictability of shared breakfasts, afternoon strolls through the flower market, and evenings spent curled up with a book by the crackling fireplace. Isabelle’s flower shop, now bearing the subtle addition of "Moreau Fleurs," was thriving, Henri’s presence a quiet strength that allowed her to truly blossom. He’d helped her source new and exotic varieties, and his understanding of botany was a constant, invaluable resource. She felt, finally, at peace.