Tag: Ruins

14 August – 9 Kingsway 9:29

The journey to Lothering took eight long days, her path weaving between fields and wooded trails to avoid the main roads. The solitude was both a blessing and a curse—while it kept her hidden from prying eyes, it also gave her far too much time to think. She found herself replaying her time with Cullen over and over again.

The ruins. The way his eyes lit up when she shared her theories about the carvings. His quiet, steady presence as he listened. “You’re incredible, you know that?” The words echoed in her mind, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest. She’d been so caught up in the ruins that she hadn’t noticed how intently he had been watching her until later—until the memory surfaced like a vivid dream. The realization stirred something in her, something she couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore either. Yet, that warmth was quickly replaced by guilt. You’re letting yourself get distracted, she scolded. Everything after that morning was a disaster, and it’s your fault for trusting him too easily.

When she finally reached Lothering, the village was as small and unassuming as Berthold had described. The thatched-roof buildings huddled together near the main road, surrounded by endless stretches of farmland. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the faint smell of woodfire and livestock hung in the air. A few villagers milled about, their gazes lingering on her just long enough to remind her that strangers were uncommon here. She pulled her hood lower, hoping to attract as little attention as possible.

After securing a modest room at the local inn, she spent the evening nursing a simple meal of stew and bread, her gaze drifting between the other patrons and the window overlooking the quiet street. The conversations around her were subdued, the hum of normal life a stark contrast to the chaos she’d left behind. For a moment, she let herself relax, taking comfort in the stillness.

But that night, sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned, her thoughts spinning as the reality of her situation pressed down on her.

Lothering is too obvious. The realization jolted her awake, her heart racing. She sat up, running a hand through her hair as her mind began to race. If Michael had sent word to their mother—and she couldn’t imagine him keeping quiet—her mother would undoubtedly alert the Duke and Duchess of Markham. This would be the first place they’d check after Kinloch Hold. She couldn’t stay here. Not when the chances of being found were so high.

Guilt twisted in her chest as her thoughts turned to Cullen. Surely, by now, her family or even the Templars might have questioned him. Would he be punished for helping her? The thought made her stomach churn. He didn’t deserve any of this—she had dragged him into her mess, and now he might be facing consequences for a decision she’d forced him to make. If I’d just stayed calm and thought it through, none of this would’ve happened. But she hadn’t, and now both of them were paying the price.

Her mind drifted to the conversations she’d had with Varric and Berthold about planning her route. West Hill had always been a backup plan, a place where she could safely send word to Varric. But now, it wasn’t just about updating him on her situation—it was about reaching her father. He needed to know what had happened at Kinloch Hold, to know the lengths Michael had gone to and how far their mother might escalate things. Varric could help her navigate this, maybe even convince her father to intervene.

And though she wouldn’t admit it to herself, the idea of telling Varric about Cullen brought her a sliver of comfort. She could already imagine his teasing grin, the way he’d lean back in his chair and call her out for getting attached to a “handsome Templar with a hero complex.” The thought made her smile despite herself. She could already hear Varric’s voice: “Oh, so now you’ve got a knight in shining armor? This is the plot twist I didn’t see coming, pup.”

Ariana shook her head, pushing the thought aside. There was no time for fantasies or distractions. She needed to act. West Hill would be her next stop. From there, she could send word to Varric and arrange a plan to reach her father without drawing too much attention.

The idea of heading back to Crestwood also lingered in her mind. It was farther from the main roads and not as exposed as Lothering. She remembered the hours she had spent talking to Cullen. For the briefest moment, she entertained the thought of running into him again, her heart quickening at the possibility. Stop it, she scolded herself. You can’t afford to get lost in these thoughts. But the idea of being close to him, even if only for a moment, was hard to push away.

By the time the sun began to rise, she had a new plan. She would restock her supplies and leave Lothering by nightfall, heading toward West Hill while avoiding the main roads. If Berthold was there, he could deliver a message to Varric, and she could decide her next steps from there. Perhaps Crestwood would be her next stop. For now, she just needed to keep moving.

~~~

It took nearly twelve days for Ariana to make her way back to West Hill. Avoiding the main road had been more time-consuming than she’d hoped, with her detours through dense woods and uneven fields leaving her exhausted and sore. She slept under the stars most nights, her cloak wrapped tightly around her for warmth as the air grew crisper with the approach of Kingsway. By the time she arrived on the 3rd, she was weary but relieved to finally see the familiar sight of West Hill’s docks.

Her first thought was of Berthold. She could only hope she hadn’t missed him. He’d said he passed through West Hill “about every month,” and while she had clung to those words as reassurance, she couldn’t be sure how precise his schedule was. As she stepped onto the docks, her heart pounded, her thoughts racing. What if I’ve just missed him? What if he’s not back for weeks?

The dockmaster, a weathered man with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, glanced up as she approached. “Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes,” Ariana replied, forcing a polite smile despite her nerves. “I’m looking for a sailor named Berthold. Has he been by recently?”

The dockmaster scratched his chin, his expression thoughtful. “Last I saw him was about a month ago—came in, dropped off some goods, and left the same day.”

Relief flooded through her, and she released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank the Maker,” she murmured, her voice almost trembling. She was just in time—Berthold’s next visit could be any day now.

With renewed energy, Ariana set out to find parchment and ink. The bustling market offered a variety of wares, and after a bit of searching, she managed to purchase a modest writing set. She found a quiet corner at the small tavern she’d stayed at during her first visit to West Hill and began drafting her letter to Varric.

Her pen hovered over the page for a moment before the words began to flow. She explained her situation in detail, recounting what had happened at Kinloch Hold and the encounter with Michael. She included a brief, almost playful note about a very handsome Templar who had ultimately helped her escape, though she was careful to avoid mentioning Cullen by name. It wasn’t a matter of distrust—she knew Varric would never betray her confidence—but letters passed through many hands before reaching their destination. She couldn’t risk Cullen’s name being overheard or misinterpreted, especially if it made its way back to her family.

Varric, she wrote toward the end, I know I’ve made a mess of things, but I’m doing my best to find solid footing again. I’m heading toward Crestwood next—it seems safer than Lothering, at least for now. I could use your advice on how to handle my mother’s inevitable schemes. And, well… I’d also like to hear how things are in Kirkwall. You always did have the best stories to distract me from my troubles.

Satisfied with her letter, she sealed it carefully, then returned to the docks. The dockmaster accepted the letter and her payment—five silver coins—with a nod. “I’ll make sure it gets to Berthold when he arrives,” he assured her.

“Thank you,” Ariana said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. With that weight off her shoulders, she turned her attention to restocking her supplies. She purchased dried meats, bread, a new waterskin, and an extra cloak to ward off the chill of the coming season. By the time she finished, dusk had settled over the village, and she decided to secure a room at the inn for the night.

As she lay in bed that evening, her thoughts turned to the road ahead. Crestwood would be her next destination—a small, quiet village nestled near a lake and dam. It had struck her as quaint and peaceful during her first visit, a place where she could keep a low profile while figuring out her next steps.

But try as she might to focus on practical matters, her mind kept drifting back to Cullen. The thought of him waiting at the Lake Calenhad docks, of seeing his warm smile and hearing his steady voice again, sent a flutter through her chest. It was foolish to think he’d be there—he had his duties, after all, and she had no reason to believe he’d seek her out. Yet the idea of crossing paths with him once more filled her with quiet hope.

She let herself imagine it for a moment: the two of them meeting by chance, sharing stories, and perhaps even visiting the ruins again. But with that hope came a shadow of guilt. You’re only going to cause more trouble for him if you go back, she reminded herself. He’s already risked enough for you.

Still, as she drifted off to sleep, the faint smile on her lips betrayed her thoughts. No matter how impractical or unlikely, a part of her couldn’t stop hoping that fate might bring them together again.

~~~

Cullen often found his thoughts drifting back to Ariana, no matter how hard he tried to push them aside. It had been nearly twenty days since she left, and yet her memory clung to him, vivid and persistent. He would catch himself replaying moments from their time together: the way her eyes lit up as she spoke about the Elven ruins, the gentle lilt of her voice as she recounted stories from her life, the way she had smiled at him—warm and unguarded, if only for brief moments. Those memories surfaced unbidden, more often than he cared to admit, and they left a lingering ache he couldn’t quite shake.

He should have been relieved that he’d managed to avoid trouble for her escape. Somehow, everyone’s attention remained focused on the fact that he had been the one to apprehend her in the first place. Why, they reasoned, would he let her go? The irony was almost laughable, though Cullen found no joy in it. He had been lucky. His decision to appear compliant with both Knight-Commander Greagoir and Ser Michael had worked in his favor, and ultimately, they’d concluded that some absent-minded Templar had left the cell door unlocked—or that Ariana had used lockpicks, a skill Michael had grudgingly suggested might have been taught to her by their father.

The Circle, much to Cullen’s relief, decided to move on, dismissing the incident as an embarrassment rather than a security breach. And so, his role in her escape was buried under the daily demands of life at Kinloch Hold. But for Cullen, it wasn’t so simple. While the Circle moved on, Ariana lingered in his mind.

He found himself questioning why she had such a hold on him. They’d known each other for only a few days, and yet those few days felt more significant than weeks or even months he’d spent with others. Conversations with her had been effortless, a rare connection that made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t before. She had been guarded, certainly, but when she let her walls down, the warmth and strength beneath them had captivated him. He could only imagine how that connection might have deepened if he had been honest with her from the start. Instead, he had betrayed her trust, and though he had tried to make amends, the memory of her pain still haunted him.

More than anything, he hoped she was safe. He couldn’t help but wonder where she was now. Had she made it to Lothering? Was she keeping to the plan she’d mentioned, or had she been forced to change course again? Was she still thinking of him, even as he thought of her?

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sat by the window of his quarters, staring out at the dark waters of Lake Calenhad. His leave was coming up soon—a week off from his duties—and the temptation to use that time to find her was overwhelming. He toyed with the idea of going to Lothering, imagining the relief of seeing her again, of knowing she was safe. But even as the thought formed, he dismissed it. A week wasn’t enough time to make the journey and return to Kinloch Hold without arousing suspicion. And even if it were, what would he say to her? What could he offer her beyond empty reassurances and a promise he might not be able to keep?

No, he needed to let her go. She was a noble, on the run, and he was just a simple Templar. Whatever connection they had, it wasn’t enough to bridge the chasm between their lives. Cullen knew that now, even if accepting it felt like a slow, twisting knife in his chest.

Instead, he resolved to visit his family in Honnleath. It wasn’t far from Lake Calenhad, and seeing them would be good for him. His sister Mia always knew how to lift his spirits, and spending time with his parents and younger siblings might help him regain some perspective. It was time to put his focus back where it belonged: on his duties, on the Circle, and on the responsibilities he had taken on when he’d joined the Order.

And yet, as he made his plans, a part of him couldn’t let go of the hope—no matter how improbable—that their paths might cross again someday. He found himself wondering if she ever thought of him, if she felt the same lingering pull that he did. The thought was both comforting and agonizing, a quiet whisper of what could have been.

As he closed his eyes that night, her face came to him unbidden: the way her hazel-green eyes shifted with her emotions, the softness of her smile, the determination in her voice as she spoke of her journey. He had known her for only a few days, and yet he knew now, with a certainty that startled him, that she would always be a part of him. She made him whole.

~~~

Ariana felt good about her pace back to Crestwood, managing the journey from West Hill in just three days. Maybe she was finally getting better at traveling off the main roads—or maybe, she mused with a quiet chuckle, she had walked faster because she knew who was waiting at the end of it. Don’t be foolish, she scolded herself. It wasn’t as if she knew Cullen would be waiting for her. He was stationed at Kinloch Hold, after all. He wouldn’t just leave without notice… right?

She sighed, trying to push the thought aside. The truth was, the road had grown lonely. After nearly a month of solitude, the novelty of travel had long since worn off. The occasional interesting sight or encounter wasn’t enough to stave off the isolation. She missed having someone to talk to—someone like Cullen. And maybe, she admitted to herself, she simply wanted to see him again.

By the time she reached Crestwood, she was feeling both weary and eager. She decided to stay one night in the village, just long enough to rest her legs and resupply before continuing toward the docks. After securing a room at the tavern, she found herself smiling softly as she drifted to sleep, her thoughts lingering on the possibility of seeing him again.

At first light, she was already on her way. The trek to the Lake Calenhad docks took her two days, her pace driven by anticipation. She avoided the main roads as much as possible. By Wednesday afternoon, she found herself standing at the edge of the docks, lingering at a distance to observe the comings and goings at The Spoiled Princess.

She watched for a while, scanning the travelers passing in and out of the tavern. No sign of Templars, and—thankfully—no sign of Michael. With a deep breath, she made her way inside, pausing briefly to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. The tavern was quiet, with only a few patrons scattered at the tables. Relief washed over her as she spotted Gilbert behind the bar, his familiar presence calming her nerves.

Gilbert looked up as she approached, his face lighting up with recognition. “Well, I’ll be,” he said, his voice warm. “Mistress Ryss, isn’t it? You’ve made it back in one piece, I see.”

Ariana smiled, grateful for his friendliness. “It’s just Ariana to you Gilbert. And I \ have, thanks to some careful planning—and a little luck.”

Gilbert leaned on the bar, his brow furrowing slightly. “No trouble on the road, I hope?”

“None worth mentioning,” she replied, though her mind flickered briefly to Kinloch Hold and everything that had happened there. “Has Ser Michael been by?”

Gilbert shook his head, his expression reassuring. “No, not recently. And believe me, I’ve been keeping an eye out, just in case. You don’t have to worry.”

Ariana exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank you. Truly, I don’t know how to repay you for your kindness.”

Gilbert waved a hand dismissively. “No need for that. I’m just glad you’re alright—and that Ser Cullen was able to help you.” His tone held a note of approval, as if he’d been rooting for her all along.

Her smile softened, her heart swelling at the mention of Cullen. “He… he didn’t have to do what he did,” she said quietly. “But I’ll always be grateful that he did.”

Gilbert gave her a knowing look but didn’t press further. “Well, if there’s anything else I can do for you, just let me know.”

Ariana nodded, reaching into her pack for a small note she’d written earlier that day. “Actually, could you deliver this for me? It’s for Ser Cullen. I’ll wait for his response, but if he decides… not to respond, could you just let me know?”

Gilbert took the note, giving her a reassuring nod. “Of course. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

She placed a silver coin on the bar, sliding it toward him. “Thank you, Gilbert. For everything.”

With that, she left the tavern, her heart racing as she made her way to the ruins. She prayed that Cullen would choose to meet her there, that he’d want to see where whatever this was between them might lead. But even as hope fluttered in her chest, doubt crept in. What if he didn’t come? What if he’d decided it was safer—easier—to leave it all behind?

The ruins came into view, their ancient stones bathed in the soft light of the setting sun. She sat on one of the low walls, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The wait would be excruciating, but for Cullen, she would wait as long as it took.

~~~

Cullen had been delayed in taking his leave. He’d planned to leave several days earlier, but when a fellow Templar fell ill, Cullen had agreed to cover his duties. It was a simple decision—a matter of duty and camaraderie—but the delay weighed on him more than he wanted to admit. By Thursday, he was finally packed and ready, his destination set: Redcliffe, and from there, a short trek to Honnleath. Home. 

Still, his thoughts lingered on The Spoiled Princess. He had no real reason to stop there—he’d already packed the supplies he needed—but something in him couldn’t resist. He told himself it was habit, a convenient waypoint on his journey. Yet deep down, he knew he’d been grasping at a foolish hope each time he passed through the tavern, scanning the room for a face he wouldn’t see. He cursed himself for it. She was gone, likely far from here, and he needed to let her go. 

The tavern was quiet when he arrived, just a handful of travelers milling about. He approached the bar, nodding at Gilbert, who greeted him with a wide smile that seemed unusually bright. 

“Ah, Ser Cullen! Good to see you!” Gilbert said warmly, his tone carrying an undercurrent of excitement. 

“Good to see you too, Gilbert,” Cullen replied, his voice polite but distracted. He set his pack down on the counter. “I was hoping you might know of anyone heading south across the lake. I need a boat to Redcliffe if you—” 

Before he could finish, Gilbert began rummaging through his apron pockets, his movements hurried and purposeful. “Ah, yes… Redcliffe. I’ll check with… ah, here it is,” he said, cutting Cullen off as he pulled out a folded note. He handed it to Cullen, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “You might want to take a look at this before making any other plans, Ser Cullen.” 

Cullen frowned, his confusion deepening. “What’s this?” 

“A message,” Gilbert said with a sly smile, nodding toward the note. 

Cullen hesitated for only a moment before taking it. Unfolding the paper, he scanned the words:

Cullen, 

I wanted to let you know that I’ll be near the Elven ruins by the lake for the next few days. I don’t expect anything from you—I know how complicated things are, and the last thing I want is to cause you any trouble. 

If you’d rather leave everything that happened in the past, I understand. Truly. I won’t hold it against you. You’ve already done so much for me, more than I could have ever expected. 

But if you do want to meet, I’ll be there. Whatever this is between us—if it’s worth exploring—I’d like to see where it leads. If not… I’ll take that as your answer, and I’ll move on. 

Thank you, Cullen. For everything. 

– Ariana 

Cullen read the note twice, his chest tightening with each word. She was here. She had come back. 

Without a word, he spun on his heel and bolted out of the tavern, leaving a surprised Gilbert behind. His mind raced as his boots pounded against the ground, carrying him toward the ruins. The journey home was forgotten. All that mattered now was reaching her. 

He didn’t know what he would say when he saw her. But he would figure it out. He had to. 

She came back, he thought, his heart pounding with something that felt suspiciously like hope. 

The ruins came into view as he rounded a bend in the path, his breath catching as he quickened his pace. He didn’t care what waited ahead—all that mattered was her. 

And he would not let her slip away again. 

~~~

It seemed fate was on his side. Had he not been delayed, he likely would have missed her entirely. She might have assumed he’d chosen to forget her, never knowing he hadn’t even seen her note. Little seemed like coincidence anymore—maybe fate really did want their paths to keep crossing.

As he approached the ruins, the late-morning sun cast soft light through the trees, dappling the ancient stone with golden warmth. He scanned the area carefully, his heart thudding in anticipation. The ruins were quiet, the air still except for the faint rustle of leaves. At first, he didn’t see her, and a flicker of doubt began to creep in. But then, a familiar sight caught his eye—a pack leaning against a tree, partially obscured by the branches. She’s here, he thought, excitement blooming in his chest. But where?

Just as he turned to search further, her voice called from behind him, warm and teasing. “Hello, stranger.”

He spun around, and there she was, standing a few paces away, a soft smile on her face. Relief washed over him like a tide, and before he could think twice, he crossed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. The weight of worry he hadn’t even acknowledged until now seemed to lift in an instant. She was here. She was safe.

For a moment, he held her tightly, but a sudden thought struck him—the last time he’d held her, it had been to restrain her, to keep her from running. His arms loosened instinctively, though he dreaded the idea of pushing her away. But as he began to step back, her hands stayed on his arms, grounding him. Her smile, a bit shy but no less radiant, was a balm to his guilt. She didn’t seem to hold their last parting against him, and for that, he felt immeasurable gratitude.

When they pulled apart, her gaze fell to his pack, leaning against a nearby rock. “Are you leaving?” she asked, her voice soft with curiosity—and, he thought, maybe a hint of concern.

He hesitated, glancing at the bag. “I’d planned to visit my family in Honnleath,” he admitted. “It’s not far from here, just south of Lake Calenhad.”

They found a shaded spot among the ruins, settling onto a low, flat stone to talk. The ease between them returned quickly, their conversation slipping back into that familiar rhythm that had so surprised him before. Ariana apologized first, her words spilling out in a rush. She told him she hoped she hadn’t caused him any trouble, and that she didn’t mean to disrupt his plans.

Cullen chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Even if I had gotten into trouble—which I didn’t—leaving the Templar Order isn’t exactly an easy process.” His tone was light, teasing, but his gaze was warm, reassuring her that she hadn’t been a burden.

Ariana smiled at his response, though her expression grew more serious as she told him about her journey—the long, lonely days on the road, the reasons she’d left Lothering, and her plan to stay near Crestwood for now. Cullen listened intently, nodding at times, but his heart leapt at the thought of her being close. He struggled to keep his reaction subtle, though he felt his hope rising with every word she spoke.

And then, almost without thinking, he asked, “Would you… maybe want to come with me? To Honnleath?” His voice was quieter than he intended, laced with a hope he couldn’t quite conceal.

Ariana blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. Her brow furrowed slightly as she processed his words. “Are you sure that would be alright?” she asked, her tone cautious. “I wouldn’t want to impose. And how would we explain… me?”

She gestured vaguely, clearly uncertain about how his family might react to him arriving with a woman they didn’t know. “I don’t want to make things complicated for you,” she added softly.

Cullen hesitated. She wasn’t wrong—it would be unusual, and he wasn’t entirely sure how his family would react. Every “friend” he’d brought home before had been a fellow Templar, usually a man. On the rare occasions it had been a woman, there had never been even a suggestion of romantic interest. But Ariana was different, and he couldn’t ignore how deeply he felt drawn to her. Surely, his family would notice that too.

Still, he smiled, meeting her gaze. “It will be fine,” he said confidently. “It wouldn’t be strange for me to bring a friend along for a visit.”

Even as the words left his mouth, he wondered if they sounded hollow. Was that all she was to him? A friend? The thought tugged at him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the moment.

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken feelings settling between them. Cullen found himself watching her, the way the sunlight caught the strands of her hair, the way her expression shifted as she seemed to weigh her options. He wanted to tell her how much he cared, how much he wanted her to stay in his life. But he didn’t know how to say those things—not yet.

Instead, he let the silence stretch, hoping that she might choose to stay—not just for Honnleath, but for him.

~~~

Ariana couldn’t say exactly what she’d hoped for in his answer, but hearing him call her a “friend” hurt more than she’d expected. A sharp ache settled in her chest, catching her off guard. Perhaps she did want more, but it was foolish to think that, wasn’t it? They’d known each other for all of four days. She couldn’t expect him to introduce her to his family as anything more. Even “friend” seemed generous; by most standards, she was little more than an acquaintance.

Yet the way he had looked at her, the way he had spoken to her at the ruins and listened so intently—it had felt like so much more. She cursed herself for thinking this way. It wasn’t safe, wasn’t logical, to hold on to something so fleeting. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel the pull.

Cullen must have noticed her distant expression because he shifted closer, his movements deliberate but hesitant. His hand hovered near her face, just shy of her cheek, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should touch her. “Are you alright?” he asked gently, his voice laced with concern.

She glanced up at him, startled by the closeness. The sadness in her eyes softened as she met his gaze, and she smiled despite herself. There was something about the way he looked at her, with such earnest care, that made her feel seen in a way she wasn’t used to. It wasn’t the same as the admiration she had sometimes received from others; it felt deeper, more genuine. She let out a small, self-conscious laugh. “Just tired,” she murmured, hoping it would be enough to satisfy him, though she knew he saw through her.

His brow furrowed slightly, his hand still hovering near her cheek, as if trying to decide whether to close the distance. “Ariana,” he said quietly, his tone full of something she couldn’t quite name. “Come with me.”

Her breath caught at the sound of her name. He’d said it before, during that encounter with Michael but it had been so different then—tense, rushed, and heavy with the weight of everything that had happened. But now, hearing it spoken so softly, so earnestly, it was as though her name carried a kind of reverence. She felt her heart stutter, warmth spreading through her chest as she stared at him.

He could say my name like that forever, and I wouldn’t mind, she thought, her cheeks flushing at the thought. Maker, what is wrong with me? This is madness, isn’t it?

“You’d be more than welcome,” Cullen continued, his voice steady but hopeful. “And I think my family would love meeting you.”

Ariana stilled. There it was again—his sincerity, his kindness, his willingness to include her in his world even after everything that had happened. It made her chest ache in the best way. She felt herself smiling, warmth spreading to every corner of her being. “If you’re sure,” she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of caution and hope.

“I’m sure,” he replied without hesitation, his smile soft and reassuring.

Finally, his hand brushed her cheek, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver down her spine. The gentleness of it, the way his fingers lingered just long enough to make her heart race, felt like the answer to questions she hadn’t dared to ask. When his hand lowered, she found herself wanting to reach for it, but she didn’t. Not yet.

They both rose, picking up their packs, the unspoken connection between them hanging in the air like a promise. As they turned toward the lake, the silence that stretched between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with something unspoken but understood—a quiet contentment, a shared gratitude for this fragile, precious moment.

As they walked side by side, Ariana felt the weight of her worries begin to lift, replaced by something lighter, something she didn’t fully understand yet. She didn’t know what the future held for either of them, but for now, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here, with him and was enough.