In gardens where the sacred serpents wound, and fairies cast their light on ancient ground, Two forces lived as one, untamed, entwined, the kind of power Zeus feared he'd find. He split the soulmates, scattered them apart, believing half a thing has half the heart. We never chose between the wild, the fey, the magic and the danger, always there. Some things were never meant to come undone. The serpent and the fairy, always one.

Our garden in Singapore held both.

Sacred in Bali, where the naga guards the temple gates and the earth itself. Revered in India, where Nag Panchami honours them as divine protectors. Lucky in China, where the snake is elegant, intuitive, quietly powerful, the zodiac's most misunderstood beauty. A guardian in Singapore, where Muhammad, our gardener, blind and extraordinary, felt their vibrations through the earth before any of us knew they were there.

Every culture we grew up in had a different word for it. All of them meant the same thing. Transformation. Quiet power. Beauty that doesn't announce itself.

The fairy magic we have always carried. Across oceans, when getting lost, magic has a way of finding you when you need it most.

Two things that were always meant to share the same garden. In ours, they always did.

The S and the J. The serpent and the fairy. Intertwined from the beginning.