Chapter 46
“To protect is not always to speak.
To love is not always to hold.
Sometimes the greatest mercy is to remain silent and stay.”
- The Old Book
The Facility - Month 4
Asudden, sharp pain pierced my chest, stealing the breath from my lungs. The room rocked, and the brush slipped from my trembling fingers, clattering loudly onto the floor. Darkness swiftly enveloped me, swallowing me whole.
When I came to, I felt the cold, unforgiving floor beneath my cheek and heard a low, anxious whining beside me.
Slowly, with considerable effort, I turned my head.
Talia hovered close, eyes wide with panic, tears silently streaking down her pale cheeks.
Her lips moved soundlessly—her voice having abandoned her entirely in recent days.
“Talia,” I rasped, weakly reaching out to grasp her trembling hand. “I’m okay.”
She nodded shakily, unconvinced, and continued to cling to my hand desperately, refusing to let go as I sat upright. Breathing had become painfully labored, each inhale feeling insufficient. The dull ache in my chest intensified, but I pushed the worry down, locking it away.
“See? I’m fine,” I murmured, though the lie tasted bitter.
After reassuring Talia enough to release me, I stood shakily and dressed for breakfast. Every movement was heavier than it should’ve been, each step toward the dining hall more taxing than the last.
As I entered the dining hall, a subtle but tangible shift in atmosphere hit me immediately—a heaviness hung in the air, thick with unease and sickness. Murmurs echoed softly, everyone speaking in low, subdued tones.
Marcum stood at the podium, his face unreadable as ever, voice coolly detached. He recited two names I barely recognized, the monotonous announcement underscoring the somber mood gripping everyone present.
My gaze instinctively swept the hall, searching among the scattered, weary faces for the one person I longed to see. For the third breakfast in a row, Rowan was nowhere to be found. The hollow ache of his absence clawed uncomfortably within me.
I barely touched my food before leaving, feeling suddenly too restless and uneasy to remain seated. My quarters would be quieter, a safer refuge from my troubling thoughts.
But before I could reach my bedroom, the scent of sandalwood enveloped me, sending a thrill of anticipation down my spine. A strong, familiar hand seized my arm, gently pulling me into a side room off the hall.
“Rowan—” My surprised whisper was silenced immediately by his lips capturing mine fiercely. The kiss ignited something deep within, chasing away the lingering shadows of the morning.
Breathless, I pulled back, eyes wide with both excitement and mild scolding. “You’re going to get us caught, being this reckless.”
Rowan’s eyes sparkled mischievously, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. He leaned in closer, his voice a whisper against my ear. “Trust me, Mavis, I can be much more reckless.”
The playfulness of his tone made something flutter in my chest—not pain this time, but something perilously close to delight.
I rolled my eyes and stepped back slightly. “We can’t.”
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
“I’m busy. I’m still trying to figure out where Willam might have ended up.”
I still had a collection of books that I’d checked out and never returned. The librarian would probably come after me soon for them, but for now, they were still in my possession.
“I thought you said you discovered he didn’t make it here?”
“That doesn’t mean he’s gone,” I snapped, sharper than intended. “Just because he’s not in the records doesn’t mean he’s not out there.”
Rowan hesitated. “I just don’t want you chasing ghosts.”
“Then let me chase them. I need answers.”
“What if there are none to find?”
“Then I’ll finally stop looking. But I need to know. There has to be someone who knows something.”
He stared at me, silent for a long moment. Something moved behind his eyes—something unsaid—but then he sighed, and his hands found their way back to my waist.
“I get it,” he murmured. “I do.”
“Thank you,” I said, appeased. “Where have you been? You haven’t been at morning meals for the last few days.”
Rowan gave a half-smile. “You’ve been looking for me, huh?”
I smacked his chest playfully. “Don’t deflect. Where were you?”
His amusement faded.
“I can’t tell you. Not yet.”
“Why?” I asked, exasperated. “Why is everything with you a riddle? Why can’t you ever just say something real?”
He furrowed his brow. “Something real?”
“Yes, something honest. Something no one else knows.”
He tilted his head, considering.
“I hate cherries.”
I blinked. “Cherries?”
“They taste strange. And the pit situation? Absolutely infuriating. That objectively makes them the worst fruit.”
I snorted.
“That’s your deep, personal truth?”
“It’s a start.” He shrugged.
I grinned, shaking my head. “Pomegranates are worse.”
“Blasphemy,” he whispered, mock offended.
“They’re bitter and hard to eat. Nothing about them is worth the effort.”
“I respectfully disagree.”
I nudged him. “Respectfully?”
He leaned in and nuzzled against my neck, and I let out a startled giggle—an honest-to-gods giggle.
“I like it when you laugh. You don’t do it nearly enough.”
“I haven’t had a lot of reasons to laugh in my life.”
“Maybe we can fix that.”
His voice carried an unspoken weight. I knew what he meant: survival. Hope. The future.
But it hurt—because I didn’t believe in any of those things anymore. Not for me. Not here.
Still, I didn’t want to steal the light from this moment. So I smiled and leaned into his touch, resting my forehead against his.
He didn’t need to know that I had lost hope of ever seeing the sunrise or smelling the scent of rainfall again.
For now, a moment of laughter was enough.