19. Rain
Rain
Helena
And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
The rain lashes against my face, sharp and unrelenting, but it barely registers.
Short, ragged breaths escape me as I watch Silas retreat toward the house, his shoulders stiff, his steps quick and determined, as if he can outrun what just happened.
The storm devours the sound of his boots splashing through the mud, but his words remain, echoing in my head like a curse.
"I can’t be this man, Helena. I’m not worth your efforts, and you’ll find any attempts to change that will be worthless."
I stand rooted to the spot, my hands trembling. It’s not from the cold, but from the fury and the ache warring inside me. My skin burns where his hands gripped me, rough and desperate, as if I would slip through his fingers.
Were I truly a witch with real magic, like he said, we wouldn’t be here now. We could rest .
My fingers brush against my lips, and I swear I can still feel his hot, demanding mouth against mine. I tilt my face to the sky, closing my eyes as the rain mingles with the tears I can no longer hold back. They run down my cheeks, washing away the remnants of the moment, but not the memory.
When I imagined kissing him again after all these years, I dreamed of tenderness, of familiarity. I thought of the Silas I knew, the one who could make the world fade with a simple touch.
But this was different. Time and grief have reshaped him, forged him into something harder, edged. This kiss wasn’t the Silas I remembered. It was bruising, almost punishing, as if he were trying to exorcise his pain through me.
The thought shatters something deep inside me. A sob claws its way out, swallowed by the rain as I take a shaky step forward.
I’m here to mend, I tell myself, over and over, the words a fragile mantra. But as I make my way to the house, the realization that I’m disrupting his world, the one that he crafted out of necessity, hits me, and I wonder if I’m only here to break.
If he knew, if he truly understood who he’d kissed, would it destroy him completely?
The heavy, cruel question haunts me as I climb the steps to the back door. I hesitate, my hand on the cold, polished knob, giving the sky a final glance. The rain pours harder, as if it's trying to drown the truth beneath its relentless rhythm.
But the time for half truths is over. The time I gave myself to be cautious, to set roots, is long gone.
I open the door, closing and locking it behind me.
I remove my boots and coat, hanging my hat.
The water droplets fall from the brim, tapping the rug in a rhythm like a clock.
I walk up the stairs to my room, pushing through the door.
The wind picks up outside as if it can sense my turmoil.
Turning the shower on hot, I face the mirror, dropping my veil.
Carrying my appearance is exhausting. When Silas kissed me, I almost let it drop, too lost in the moment.
I stare at the image before me, remembering who I am.
Thinking through every moment of the last two hours.
When they sent me here, they said it would be hard to watch him and not break before the right time.
And it’s true. The first time I heard his steps in the kitchen, my entire body froze.
I could barely turn to look at him. And when I did, I only wanted to run to him.
To have him wrap his strong arms around me again.
But he isn’t ready. He has built such a carefully crafted world here. If I shocked him like that, his existence would crumble and the insanity would set in, bonding him even further to this land.
Once I’m in my gown, I slip into bed, Silas’s eyes still burning in my mind. Exhausted, I lay down. Closing my eyes, I say the prayer I’ve repeated each day I’ve been here.
Lord, help him remember.