A Passing Moment

Darius and Elara have a heart to heart.

Darius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the pin still clutched in one hand. The fire cast shifting light over his face; strong jaw, shadowed eyes, the faintest tremble in his brow like he was holding something tightly inside.

“I used to think I didn’t have space for anything else,” he said. “Not after...everything. I just kept moving. Didn’t look back. Didn’t let anyone close. Safer that way.”

Elara nodded slowly. “Until it wasn’t.”

He looked at her, and for once, didn’t look away. “You came out of nowhere. And suddenly, there was someone I wanted to fight for again. Not just alongside. For.”

Rockford stirred, sighing contentedly against her back, as though sensing the tension between them lightening by degrees.

“I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter,” Darius said. “Told myself you’d leave eventually. That it would hurt less if I never said anything.”

“But it never hurts less,” she said.

He gave a dry laugh. “No. It doesn’t.”

They sat in the silence, the kind that crackled with everything that might come next.

Then Darius held up the butterfly pin, watching it catch the firelight. “She always said this meant change. That we couldn’t stay buried in the past forever.” His voice went quiet. “Maybe this is her way of saying it’s time.”

Elara reached out and covered his hand with hers. “Then let’s listen.”

Behind them, a loud clatter came from the kitchen. Lyle’s voice followed: “That was not my fault.”

“Whose fault is this?” Maren barked back. “You touched the kettle and knocked over the mug tray!”

Darius chuckled under his breath. “Every time we start to have a moment; they try to shatter it. Literally.”

“Good thing we’re not delicate,” Elara murmured, smiling.

Their hands were still joined.