Quiet Interlude

Realizing they are both on the same page Darius and Elara have another moment.

Darius laced his fingers through hers, letting the silence settle again, but softer this time, like a familiar song reaching its refrain. He looked down at their joined hands, then back up at her with a faint smile.

“I guess that makes us...resilient.”

Before Elara could answer, Lyle wandered back into the room holding two chipped mugs, steam curling from both.

“Coffee delivery. No fires this time, promise.”

Maren followed behind with a dish towel slung over her shoulder and a crooked grin. “Don’t give him too much credit. He forgot the sugar.”

“I brought presence,” Lyle declared, setting the mugs on the table. “You’re welcome.”

Darius stood, stretching slightly before offering Elara a hand. “Want to go outside? I could use air.”

Elara folded her arms and leaned against the railing of the overlook, the distant sea whispering below. Darius joined her.

Then he said, “This place used to feel like a remote outpost. Like the edge of the world.”

She turned slightly toward him. “And now?”

He thought for a moment. “Now it feels like the center of something. Something I don’t want to lose.”

She smiled, but it wavered. “It still scares me. What we’re walking into.”

He nodded, gaze distant. “We’ll face it. One step at a time.”

Darius reached in his jacket pocket and pulled something out; a faded yellow ribbon, worn at the edges. He handed it to her.

“What’s this?”

“My mother used to tie it around her sunflower. Said they grew straighter that way. And when she passed kept it.”

Elara held the ribbon gently. “It’s beautiful.”

A beat of quiet passed between them. And then from inside, faint music floated out; a muffled guitar riff followed by Lyle’s unmistakable off-key voice.

“Oh no,” Darius groaned. “He found the band playlist.”