Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Despite being exhausted, I can’t sleep on the first leg of my journey. Every sound jerks me upright, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. The caffeine from the two lattes I definitely shouldn’t have had back at the airport leave me feeling shaky and slightly nauseous.
I flip through books on my phone, but I can’t focus. Even an audiobook can’t hold my attention as my ears keep listening for danger. Despite the miles that rack up behind me, I can’t shake the feeling I haven’t seen the last of Ben.
We were together long enough that I know how tenacious he is. I go back through the years in my mind, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. Did he ever love me? Or was I always just a pawn?
I curse myself for being so naive, so trusting.
He was my whole world. Everything had been for him.
Now that I’m out from under his thumb, a new picture comes into focus.
One where I finally see who Ben really is.
The changes were so slow, so subtle, I hadn’t even realized what was happening.
I was the proverbial frog in boiling water.
Never again will I be subservient, or put someone else’s needs ahead of my own. He taught me that I’m alone in this world, and if anyone’s going to take care of me, it has to be me. Nothing like flying to the other side of the world to make that a priority.
By the time I get off the second plane, find my luggage, and meet the jeep I hired online during a layover, there’s a new confidence in my step. I can only hope the ten-hour drive back to the mountain village goes quickly.
The first few hours are filled with bouncing roads and switchbacks. I try to upload my notes and maps to my computer, but the terrain is too rough. Instead, I pull out the originals, flipping through the weathered pages in my lap.
When we stop for lunch and a bathroom break at a roadside food stand, I unfold from the jeep with a groan, rubbing my sore back.
A steaming cup of chai warms my hands, and for a moment, I’m transported back in time—holding a tiny clay mug as moonlight bathed the trees and those mysterious silver eyes flashed at me in the darkness.
I’m torn between hoping I’ll see them again and praying my return will be distraction-free. With winter closing in and my resources stretched, I don’t know how long I have this time.
At least I’d been smart enough not to give Ben access to the small inheritance my mother left me. Thinking of her brings a tightness to my throat. I’ve missed her for years, but I’ve never felt as alone as I do now.
The approaching winter isn’t the only ticking clock I’m racing against. The need for this plant is more than academic. I can’t let myself imagine what will happen if I fail again—or worse, if I’m wrong about its properties.
We load back into the jeep, and I force my thoughts elsewhere.
I manifest hiking through unforgiving terrain, scanning for silvery green leaves and iridescent petals.
A flash of color catches the sun. I run to it, fall to my knees, and cup the blossom in my hands.
Its luminescent blue-violet matches my own unusual eye color, another gift from my mother.
Just as I begin to harvest it, my head jerks up to find we’ve arrived. I must have drifted off, lulled by exhaustion. I can’t believe it, but in just a few days, I’m back at the very same guest house in the mountain town of Migdhari.
I walk inside, the scent of incense curling through the air. The owner looks up, mouth open in shock, then breaks into a warm, crinkled smile.
“Dahlia-ji! I thought you had returned home.” Tenzig hurries over and presses his hands together with a slight bow. “Namaste.”
“Namaste,” I reply. With a sad smile, I add, “I did.”
“The mountains have called you back,” he says with a knowing look. “So, you must answer. You are tired. Come, I will show you to your room.”
I follow him gratefully, his kindness like a balm to my bruised and battered heart. I’m thrilled when he opens the door to the same room I’d stayed in before. The familiar walls feel more like home than the house I just fled.
“Come to the lounge when you are ready for tea,” he says gently as he leaves.
I unpack and sit on the bed, staring out at the water and woods beyond. Last time, I had searched only this side of the river. But something in those far-off trees calls to me, pulling at some deep, wordless place.
Tomorrow, I’ll ask Sita to guide me again, this time across the water. Although all I want to do is fall into this bed, I could really use a friendly face. So I bundle up and head back to the lounge for tea, hoping it will thaw the frozen hollow where my heart should be.
No matter how tightly I pull my coat, the wind sneaks icy tendrils under my hood and along the hem of my parka. The temperature seems colder than even when I left, leaving no doubt that winter is coming.
Inside once more, I stretch my hands toward the fire’s comforting glow. Tenzig sits beside me, passing me a steaming cup of chai.
After a long silence, I ask, “Tenzig, do you know if Sita is available to guide me again?”
“I believe so. She will be back in the morning, and you can ask her then.” His gaze softens. “You have come back for the plant?”
I nod, staring off into the fire. The memory of those eyes, glittering and watchful, presses against my skin again. Now that I’m back, I can feel them stronger than ever.
I should feel uneasy. Instead, I feel a slow-burning anticipation. The kind of shiver that caresses like a lover’s touch. A flicker of heat low in my belly. That gaze promised something wild. Something consuming.
The desire pooling within me is unexpected, but undeniable.
I haven’t just been craving sex, but intimacy.
A true connection. Space to explore my body, my wants, my limits.
With Ben, things had been… fine. Slotted into rare moments between deadlines.
But every time I tried to deepen it, he dismissed me.
So, eventually, I stopped trying.
And even when we did have sex, something was missing. Like we were both just going through the motions.
Now, I know why.
I deserve someone who’ll help me not only explore my sexuality, give me a safe space to experiment and uncover everything my body has to offer, but offer a genuine connection, a meeting of the heart and soul.
Not that I expect to find that here, high in the Himalayas.
Tenzig gently calls my name again, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to the present.
“Sorry, it’s been such a long day,” I murmur, hoping my longing doesn’t show on my face.
He only smiles and bids me goodnight.
I walk back to my room and barely make it under the quilt before I fall asleep.