150
The scent of crushed lavender and dried sage lingered in the warm air, curling around glass bottles and woven baskets filled with herbs. Sunlight filtered through the slatted roof, casting golden rays across the floor of the healing tent.
Selene stepped inside, brushing a loose curl behind her ear as she held a small pouch of dried thyme.
“I brought what Elder Mirella asked for,” she said softly. “She said she was low on pain relief for her joints.”
Avynna, crouched by a wooden table as she ground herbs with a stone pestle, didn’t look up right away. She simply nodded.
“Thank you.”
Selene hesitated, then crossed the room to help organize the scattered vials.
They worked in silence for a moment, the kind that was almost peaceful—almost.
Then Selene spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been spending time with Loco,” she said. “He’s… kind. And funny, in that quiet way.”
Avynna’s hands stilled.
Selene continued, not noticing the tension behind her.
“I didn’t mean to get close. I know he’s hurting. But I think I’m starting to care about him. I don’t want to make things harder. I just—he makes me feel safe. Like I can be myself.”
Avynna finally stood, turning to face her fully. Her expression was calm. But her eyes? They burned like tempered steel.
“Loco is a good man,” she said. “But he’s not yours to collect just because he’s broken.”
Selene blinked, taken aback by the tone. “I’m not trying to—”
“—I’m sure you’re not,” Avynna cut in, voice like velvet over thorns. “I believe you’re sweet. Gentle. But let’s not pretend sweetness doesn’t still leave bruises if it doesn’t know where to step.”
Selene looked down, cheeks flushed with quiet shame. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she said softly.
Avynna’s voice softened, but the edge never fully dulled. “Then be careful. Because someone already has.”
She turned back to the herbs, the conversation clearly over.
Selene stood there for a breath longer, then quietly placed the thyme on the table and slipped out, the flap of the tent rustling gently behind her.
And Avynna closed her eyes, hands clenching the edge of the table. "She’s not the enemy," she thought. "But she’s not the answer either."
She held no solution, not for her daughter’s fractured heart, nor for the love that still lived in silence between two people too stubborn to speak.
The sky was bruised with the colors of a dying sun—amber fading into violet, shadows stretching long through the trees.
Bavanda’s pulse thundered in her ears as she walked the path she knew he’d take. The one he always did when he needed space.
She spotted him just ahead, his shoulders tense, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The hurt still clung to him like smoke.
“Loco.”
He froze, but didn't turn. She could tell he was holding his breath too with the way his body tensed up.
She stepped closer, her voice trembling but strong. “Please… don’t walk away. Not this time.”
He didn’t move, but the silence between them shifted—charged. She felt herself getting expectant, even if she didn't want to.
She took another step, just close enough to feel the chill of the wind between them. “I’ve been trying to figure out the right thing to say,” she said, voice cracking. “But there isn’t one. So here it is.”
He still didn’t look at her, but his fists clenched tighter.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Finally, he turned—slowly.
His face was unreadable. The walls were back up. But his eyes… gods, his eyes.
“I never stopped,” she went on, tears stinging her lashes. “Even when I pushed you away. Even when I lied to myself and said I didn’t need you.”
She swallowed hard. “I didn’t say yes because I was scared of not being enough. Scared that I’d ruin you, or us. But I’ve never wanted anything more than I wanted to be yours.”
He blinked, jaw tightening.
“I was broken too, Loco. I still am. But I’m trying. And if you still—”
He stepped past her before she could finish. Just a breath between them. His shoulder brushed hers—warm, aching.
He leaned in, just enough for his breath to kiss her ear. “You should’ve told me sooner.”
And then he was gone.
Bavanda stood there, breath caught in her throat, chest caving in. The wind howled against the cliffs. But it was nothing compared to the silence he left behind.
Loco’s boots thudded against the gravel path, his breath ragged from the weight of everything Bavanda had just said.
She’d laid her soul bare, but it was too late. Well, was it?
And yet… it cracked something open in him. A place he’d boarded up. A part of him that never stopped looking for her in every crowd, every silence.
He clenched his fists, jaw tight. Emotions swirled like a storm—love, pain, anger, longing. How could she just show up in his face after how many days saying she loved him? What happened when he wanted her to live him?
His heart wasn't just a toy she could play with and dump. Nor a jewelry which she could simply try on and choose not to put on. Was her love just a switch she could put on and off?
Loco exhaled, holding back the urge to scream or punch something. He wanted to say more to her face but he couldn't really muster the courage.
Those words… Those words were the words he needed so desperately to hear. Yet, it angered him so much. He felt like she was only saying what he wanted to hear, and that she didn't really mean them. Maybe that was what she had been doing all along.
‘Cause how the hell did she love him very well until he wanted more? Was he wrong for wanting more? Is that what changed her?
He turned the corner—only to almost collide with Selene.
She blinked up at him, surprised. “Hey,” she said gently. “You okay?”
He didn’t answer. Just stared past her for a beat, lost.
Selene’s smile faded as she studied his face—the tension in his brow, the glassy edge in his eyes.
She stepped back slightly. “You saw her, didn’t you?”
Loco finally met her gaze, and Selene—clever, kind Selene—already knew.
Still, she asked quietly, “Do you still love her?”
He looked away, exhaling a breath that felt like surrender. “I never stopped.”
The silence stretched between them.
Selene’s lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. She nodded once, not with bitterness, but with grace—dignity.
“Then maybe… you should stop pretending with me.”
Loco closed his eyes as the reality hit him hard. When he opened them again, she was already walking away.
And he was left there—alone with a love that refused to die, and the consequences of letting it bleed this long.
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