The sun hangs high and golden, spilling warmth across everything—the gravel beneath my feet, the black paint of the car, the white roses climbing the garden wall in full, heavy blooms.

I lean against the passenger door outside the house. My shoulder blades press into the cool metal. My arms are crossed. My patience is thinning like frost beneath a rising sun.

My glasses are on. Dark lenses. A wall between me and the world.

I don’t know where he’s taking me. He wouldn’t say. When I asked, he just smiled—that soft, closed-lip smile of his—and shook his head.

A secret.

His brown eyes lit up like a child’s on the morning of a birthday. Careful. Excited.

I didn’t ask again.

But if it’s a public place—crowded, noisy, full of people—the constant noise of their minds will ruin my mood within minutes.

So the glasses stay on.

The dark lenses soften everything—the green of the garden, the white of the roses, the impossible blue of the sky. It all feels farther away.

Safer.

I look down at my watch.

How much longer is he going to take?

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Gravel crunches beneath my shoes.

Getting ready. For what?

We’re just going somewhere.

The seconds crawl. Each one heavier than the last, stretching like time itself is enjoying my discomfort.

A frustrated sigh slips from my lips—low, impatient, swallowed by the morning air.

Then I hear it.

An engine. Slow. Approaching. The sound rolls up the driveway—steady, deliberate, unhurried.

I look up.

A car pulls to a stop in front of the house. Familiar. Dark. Polished. The door opens.

Everic steps out. He’s holding a bouquet wrapped in pale paper—blue and white flowers tied together with a cream-colored ribbon.

I stare at him.

What is he doing here?

He walks toward me. Gravel crunches beneath his shoes. His gaze drifts over me—head to toe, slow and measuring, the same way he’s looked at me since we were children.

"Are you going somewhere, Ellis?"

I uncross my arms. Cross them again. The movement is sharper than I intend.

"Why did you come here?" My gaze drops briefly to the flowers. "With those."

Everic smiles. "You know why I came." A pause settles between us. Then he tilts his head slightly.

"And who I came for."

My eyes stay on him. Calm. Unblinking.

I slide my glasses off slowly, folding the temples with care I don’t feel.

His smile doesn’t waver. He glances toward the house door—the polished wood, the brass handle gleaming beneath the sun.

"Where’s Silas?"

Before he can take a step toward the door—

The door opens. Silas steps out. He’s holding a small wicker basket lined with soft white linen, the edges folded neatly.

He’s wearing sky blue today. Soft as the morning. The color settles beautifully against his pale skin. The pearl necklace rests at his collar, catching the sunlight whenever he moves.

Everic stares. And his thoughts unfurl quietly—not loud, not violent, but full and lingering.

{Wow. Today he looks even more beautiful than the last time I saw him. How does every color suit him like this? And those pearls... They look better on him than anyone else.}

Silas walks toward us. His steps are light, barely disturbing the gravel. The basket swings gently at his side.

Everic blinks and quickly pulls himself together. The practiced smile returns to his face.

"Hello, Silas."

A flicker of surprise crosses Silas’s face—small and brief—before he smiles softly. Warmly.

Everic lifts the bouquet and offers it to him with both hands.

"I came to give you these." His voice softens slightly. "Remember? We talked about this last time."

He pauses.

"They’re Crystal Country’s special flowers. They only bloom for three days each year." His smile widens faintly. "I thought you might like them." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Silas takes the bouquet.

His fingers close carefully around the stems before he lifts the flowers to his nose. His eyes fall shut briefly, brown lashes resting against his pale cheeks.

He inhales softly. Then he nods. Small. Quiet. A silent thank you.

I look away. The gravel suddenly seems very interesting. The way the light catches the small stones.

"How much longer are you going to take?"

My voice cuts through the quiet like a blade—sharp, sudden, too loud for the soft morning.

"Or I’ll leave you here."

Silas blinks and looks at me. His smile doesn’t fade, but something in his eyes shifts—small enough to disappear almost immediately.

Everic looks between us. Curious. Piecing something together. "Are you two going somewhere?"

Silas nods. The soft smile still rests on his lips, like my sharp words are nothing more than passing weather.

Everic’s smile brightens. Too bright. "Oh. I thought we were going to have lunch together."

My gaze shifts toward him. His thoughts churn quietly beneath the surface.

{Where is Ellis taking him? When did they get close enough to go anywhere together? What changed?}

Everic tilts his head. His gaze lands on me—light, teasing, sharp at the edges.

"Wow, Ellis. I’m surprised."

A quiet laugh slips beneath the words.

"You’re actually going somewhere. Usually you just stay home—or disappear to that club with Sum and drink until you forget your own name."

He pauses, letting the words settle. "Take Silas somewhere nice. Make sure he doesn’t get bored."

My jaw tightens. The muscle beneath my ear pulses once. Then again.

Everic looks back at Silas, his voice softening slightly.

"Anyway. Next time, we’ll eat together." He steps back and waves lightly. "See you. Enjoy your day."

Silas lifts his hand and waves back. Small. Polite.

Everic slides back into his car. The engine hums softly before the car pulls away, gravel crunching beneath the tires until it disappears down the road.

Silence settles over the driveway again.

So annoying.

I open the passenger door and slide inside. The leather is cool against my skin. Smooth. Expensive. I pull the door shut harder than I mean to. The sharp sound cuts through the quiet.

Silas flinches. His shoulders tense slightly. His fingers tighten around the basket handle and the bouquet.

He looks at me. Quick. Startled. His brown eyes widen for just a moment before he looks away again.

He opens the driver’s door and slides in.

The bouquet and basket are still in his hands. He pauses, looking down at them—the pale blue and white flowers tied with their cream ribbon, the wicker basket lined with cloth.

Then he turns and carefully places them on the back seat. The flowers settle against the leather. The basket rests beside them.

He faces forward again. His hand reaches for the steering wheel.

My voice stops him. Sharp. Cold. Flat.

"I don’t like the scent of those flowers."

Silas goes still. His fingers loosen on the steering wheel slowly before he looks at me. A faint crease forms between his brows.

My gaze shifts toward him. Slow. Deliberate. My face stays calm. My eyes burn. My hand reaches back. I take the bouquet.

The paper crinkles beneath my fingers—a small, fragile sound in the silence of the car. The ribbon slips against my skin, smooth as water.

The window slides down with a soft hum. I throw the bouquet outside.

It tumbles through the air—pale blues and whites spinning against the sky, the ribbon trailing behind like a loose thread. It lands on the gravel. Petals scatter. Paper crumples. The window slides shut again.

Silas blinks. Once. Twice. His hands still rest on the steering wheel. His fingers don’t move.

I cross my arms and lean back against the seat, closing my eyes. The morning light presses warmly against my eyelids. My voice lowers slightly.

"Let’s go. Before I change my mind."