Amara sat quietly on the old bench in the mansion's garden, the morning sun shining gently through the trees, the delicate melody of chirping birds sounding like pleasant music. Her gaze remains fixed upon the centrepiece of the garden- a majestic fountain adorned with intricate carvings, its waters shimmering in the golden light due to the sun's rays.

Lost in her thoughts, she remains motionless, her fingers tracing invisible patterns upon the weathered wood of the bench, seeking solace in the familiar texture beneath her touch. The garden had become her source of peace, a place where she would visit whenever she felt low.