Chapter 11
The forest I find myself in is unlike any other I have seen before...although there’s something vaguely familiar about it. The trees are twisted and ancient, their roots snaking out of the ground like grasping fingers. The air is thick with the scent of moss and earth, and a feeling of unease settles in the pit of my stomach. As I stumble through the undergrowth, trying to make sense of my surroundings, a voice calls out from somewhere ahead.
“Malia.”
The voice is familiar and welcome, sending a shiver of longing down my spine. I follow the sound, pushing my way through the dense foliage, until I reach a small clearing dappled with sunlight. And there, standing in the centre of the clearing, is Vance.
His expression is a mixture of relief and concern as he looks at me, his gaze flicking quickly over my dishevelled appearance and the bewilderment in my eyes. His body tenses, as though he’s holding himself back from rushing toward me, but the tension in his face gives way to a raw urgency.
The next moment, he’s stepping forward, his hand reaching out as if to steady me, and then, without another word, he pulls me into his arms. The force of his embrace is almost too much, as though he’s afraid I’ll slip away from him again if he loosens his hold.
At first, I don’t know how to react—his touch feels too real, too grounding, but at the same time, it only deepens the confusion swirling in my chest. His breath is ragged against my hair, the sound of it betraying his strained control.
“Malia...” His voice cracks on my name, and I feel his body shudder slightly, as though he’s trying to hold himself together. “Where have you been?”
His words are gentle, but laden with a desperation that hits me in the gut. It’s as if he’s pleading with me to have an answer, to explain whatever has happened. I can’t give him one.
I pull back a fraction, just enough to look at his face, but his hands remain firm on my back, like he’s scared I’ll vanish again. The intensity in his eyes is almost overwhelming. There’s fear there—fear I’ve never seen in him before. His brow is furrowed, and his lips are pressed tight as if he’s holding something in, something he’s afraid to let slip.
“You were gone for so long,” he adds quietly, his voice rough. His words don’t quite match the softness of his tone. They tremble under the weight of his worry.
I try to process the flood of emotions that rush through me—confusion, dizziness, and a creeping sense of loss that I don’t understand. But none of it makes sense. None of it connects. I look up at him, my brow furrowing as I search his face for something—some explanation.
“I-I don’t know,” I reply, frowning. “One moment I was on the cliff with you, and the next...I was somewhere else.”
His jaw clenches at my answer, but there’s no anger in him, only more concern. I can see the conflict playing out behind his eyes—he wants to push, to demand, but he holds back. Instead, his hands soften their grip on me, and he shifts his weight, lowering his tone.
A memory of a figure in the forest, the being of light and shadow, lingers at the edge of my consciousness, like a half-remembered dream.
“You disappeared, Malia. Vanished into thin air in the arms of a stranger without warning. I’ve been out of my mind with worry for the last three days, searching for you non-stop.”
The weight of Vance’s words settles heavily on my shoulders, and I feel a pang of guilt for causing him such distress – even if I don’t remember it.
Three days? I remember staring at the ocean like it was two minutes ago.
What’s going on?
I reach up to touch his cheek, the warmth of his skin grounding me in the present moment, comforting me as I try to do the same for him.
“I-I’m sorry, Vance. I never meant to worry you,” I whisper, my voice catching with emotion. “I-I don’t understand what happened either...”
“I know,” he says, more gently now, the panic in his voice ebbing into something more restrained, more careful. “It’s alright. It’s okay. Can you remember anything? Anything at all?”
He strokes my hair, as if the touch could soothe whatever storm rages within me. I don’t understand what happened. I don’t even know where I’ve been, why I’m here now, or what this place is. But Vance’s calmness, despite the storm of emotions I can feel rolling under the surface of his touch, pulls me in.
“I’m sorry…no” I lean into him instinctively, craving the comfort of his presence, even though everything inside me is still reeling.
“Okay. I’m here now,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft against my ear. “You’re safe.”
But I’m not sure if I believe him. Safe? How can I be when I don’t even know where I’ve been, what’s happened to me?
But I nod anyway, not trusting myself to speak, my body trembling in his arms.
“We’ll figure it out together, Malia. Whatever you need, wherever this journey takes us, I’m by your side. Just…don’t go off without me again, okay? We have to stick together. It doesn’t matter how safe this place seems, we can’t let our guard down.”
“I won’t.” If I can help it. “I promise.”
“Come, let’s get out of here and find somewhere else to spend our day. You need to rest.”
His words are quiet but firm, like the anchor I’ve needed in the chaos of my mind. As we leave the forest behind, I can’t shake the feeling that the trees are watching us, that the earth beneath our feet is not quite as solid as it seems. The air feels thick, the forest shifting behind us, the sounds of unseen creatures stirring in the shadows. The breeze carries a whisper, but the words are lost, as if the forest itself is speaking in a language I can’t understand.
Vance keeps his arm around me, a constant, grounding presence, his touch almost possessive now, as if he’s afraid to let go.
I lean into him, grateful for the warmth and strength of his body next to mine. His arm feels like a shield against everything that’s unsettled me—the forest, the questions, the strange sense of not quite belonging anywhere.
The path beneath our feet is soft, but I barely notice the ground beneath me anymore. The sound of our footsteps crunching on the grass is the only thing I can focus on, the steady rhythm of it both comforting and unnerving. The birds overhead sing their songs of freedom, their voices echoing in the distance as if they too are calling us away from the darkness we’ve just left behind.
We walk in silence, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s a silence filled with everything we’ve both been through—his fear, my confusion, the space between us that still feels vast, despite the closeness of our bodies.
The trees begin to thin, their twisted forms giving way to more familiar shapes, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve crossed into a different world. The forest that’s been our home for so long now feels like an alien landscape, one that I can’t trust.
As we emerge into the open space of the grove, the sunlight breaks through the canopy above us, bathing the ground in a soft golden glow. It feels too bright, too perfect, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m still dreaming.
Vance leads me to a small stream that winds lazily through the grove. The sound of running water is gentle, a soft murmur that calms the nerves fraying at the edges of my mind. We sit on a moss-covered rock by the water, the coolness of it beneath me a sharp contrast to the warmth of Vance’s body next to mine.
The world around us seems to slow. The trees sway slightly in the breeze, their leaves shimmering in the sunlight, but it doesn’t feel as calming as it should. The forest feels alive still, watching us from the edge of the clearing, its secrets lurking just out of sight.
I watch the sunlight dance on the surface of the stream, the water catching the light in ripples, and for a moment, I can almost believe everything will be okay.
But the doubts remain.
I close my eyes and tilt my head back, letting the sun’s warmth wash over me. The familiar sensation of heat on my skin is a reminder that I’m still here, still alive, and yet… I’m not sure I know who I am anymore. Not fully.
I’m alive, I think. But what does that even mean right now?
A chill runs down my spine despite the warmth of the sun, and I instinctively curl into Vance, seeking the comfort of his presence, his steady heartbeat.
For a brief moment, I let myself believe that everything is okay. That the worst is behind us, that the darkness of the forest and the time I can’t remember, are nothing more than distant shadows now.
But even as I rest there, with Vance’s arm around me, I can’t shake the feeling that something is still out there—something that’s waiting for us, just beyond the edge of this moment.
As we sit by the stream, the sound of the water flowing around us becomes a quiet hum, a gentle backdrop to the chaos still swirling in my mind. I lean back against the moss-covered rock, the warmth of the sun on my skin a comfort, yet it doesn’t quite reach the parts of me still shadowed by uncertainty.
Vance doesn’t speak, but I can feel his gaze on me—heavy, tender, and constant. I don’t need to look to know he’s watching, his presence surrounding me, yet it doesn’t feel suffocating. It’s a quiet kind of attention, one that tells me he’s waiting for me to break the silence, waiting for me to let go of whatever weight I’m holding inside.
Finally, I shift slightly, catching him looking at me. His eyes are soft, filled with something I can’t name, and I meet his gaze, a frown pulling at my brow as I ask, “What?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, the air between us thickens, charged with the unspoken. He looks at me for a long beat, his gaze searching, as if trying to memorise every detail of me, like he’s afraid I might vanish again if he doesn’t commit it all to memory. His expression softens then, and he steps closer, his voice low and raw when he speaks.
“I missed you,” he says, each word wrapped in a kind of reverence I haven’t heard before. “I’ve missed you more than I thought possible, Malia. These days without you…they’ve been endless. I don’t care where we are, what’s happened, or where we go from here. All I want is to remember this—*you*—forever. I want to remember the way you look in the sunlight, the way your eyes change when you’re uncertain, the way you feel when you’re close to me.”
His words hit me like a wave I wasn’t prepared for, and I feel something shift deep inside. My heart skips, a strange flutter rising in my chest, as I try to process the weight of his confession. I open my mouth to reply, but no words come. I just look at him, trying to find a way to respond to something so beautifully raw.
Before I can speak, though, he’s leaning in, closing the space between us. His hand brushes gently against my cheek, a tentative touch that feels like a question, an invitation. His lips hover near mine, and the vulnerability in his gaze strikes me, like he’s afraid to push too hard, afraid of breaking something. But the longing there is undeniable, and in that moment, I realize there’s nothing left but us.
“Malia,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything to me. I ? —”
His words are swallowed by the soft press of his lips on mine. At first, it’s slow and searching, a gentle kiss that’s almost like he’s asking for permission, afraid to take more than I’m willing to give. But when I don’t pull away, when I lean into him, his arms come around me, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepens.
The world falls away in that instant. There’s no forest, no confusion, no unanswered questions. There’s only him and me—two souls tangled in a moment of pure connection. His kiss is warm and tender, but there’s urgency to it too, as though he’s afraid that if he lets go for even a second, I might slip away from him again.
When we finally pull apart, breathless, I can still feel the imprint of his lips on mine, the heat of him lingering in the space between us. His forehead rests against mine, and I hear him whisper, his voice hoarse but filled with an undeniable promise.
“I’ll never let you go again,” he murmurs, his words threading through my heart like a vow, and I know, in that moment, he means it.