Scarlett leaned back, her eyelids fluttering shut. — Thank you. For this. —
— You’re unwell. It’s not as if I could simply disregard it. — They sat in shared silence for a moment.
The wind outside continued its mournful wail, but within the barn, a cocoon of warmth enveloped them, imbued with an unspoken understanding. — Do you ever fall ill like this? — she inquired suddenly, her eyes still closed. Thomas looked down at his calloused hands.
— Once or twice. When I was younger. — She slowly turned her head towards him.
— Were you alone? — A pause. — Yes, — he admitted. — Much of the time. —
Scarlett nodded faintly. — I was, too. — He glanced at her.
She opened her eyes, the fever casting a glassy sheen over them, yet her gaze held a sharp, unmistakable vulnerability. — I’ve never shared this with anyone, — she began, her voice hushed.
— I was in the foster care system from the age of five, constantly moved from one place to another as if I were a discarded package no one desired. — Thomas remained silent, simply listening intently.
— I grew accustomed to sleeping with my shoes on, just in case we were relocated in the dead of night. I learned to conceal food beneath my pillow because some places rationed it like a form of punishment. And school… —
— That was merely a respite between constant struggles for survival. — The words emerged slowly, but now without hesitation, as if she had suppressed them for years. — There was a woman once, Ms. Evelyn.
She allowed me to read at the public library after school. She never posed questions. She simply permitted me to exist.
I believe she saved my life in countless subtle ways. — Thomas swallowed hard, his throat constricted. — She sounds like someone who truly saw you. —
— She did, — Scarlett confirmed quietly. — The first person who didn’t perceive me as merely trouble. —
A long silence settled between them. A silence that was heavy, not with distance, but with a profound and shared understanding. — You don’t appear to be someone who would permit that kind of past to define her, — Thomas observed.
Eventually, Scarlett offered a weak smile. — I never possessed that luxury. If I had allowed it to define me, I wouldn’t have endured. —
— You’ve achieved far more than mere survival. — Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. — And yet here I am, shivering in a barn, sipping pine-scented water. —
Thomas chuckled again, softer this time. She coughed once more, wincing. — I suppose I’m still human, after all. —
— You always were. — His voice was so quiet, she almost missed it.
She blinked at him, surprised. Thomas rose, reaching for the quilt to adjust it over her shoulders. — Try to get some sleep. —
She nodded and closed her eyes. He watched her for a moment longer, then turned to leave, but paused. His hand hovered above her forehead, then her hair.
A soft lock had fallen across her temple. Without conscious thought, he reached out and gently brushed it back. Just that.
But something deep within him shifted. He looked down at her sleeping form, the tension in her brow visibly softening, the corners of her mouth relaxed. There was something so exquisitely strong yet fragile about her.
So profoundly familiar in ways he hadn’t anticipated. It was as if two distinct wounds had recognized each other, and the process of healing had subtly begun. He had never been one to believe in the concept of fate.
But now, he found himself less certain. He descended the ladder quietly, his heart feeling profoundly unsteady, his own tumultuous thoughts now louder than the receding storm. Upstairs, Scarlett continued to sleep soundly.
But in the ephemeral space between their disparate worlds, something unspoken had taken root. And neither of them would ever again be quite the same. The morning dawned with a pristine clarity, the first in several days.
Sunlight streamed through the barn windows, catching soft, shimmering rays on the dust motes and scattered hay. The storm had finally passed, leaving behind a world cloaked in an immaculate, frozen beauty. Scarlett stood near the barn’s entrance, her phone pressed tightly against her ear.
Her jaw was clenched, her voice taut with underlying tension. — Yes, I am fully aware the board is expecting me, — she stated. — Inform them I will touch down before noon.
Just manage to hold them off a little longer. I am en route. — She terminated the call, her breath misting visibly in the cool air. Her designer heels, now scuffed and slightly damp, crunched softly on the wooden floor as she turned to face Thomas, who stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest.
— I must depart, — she announced. — I assumed as much, — he replied, his voice devoid of inflection. — They require my immediate presence back in the city.
I have a pivotal meeting that could determine the fate of everything I have painstakingly built. — Thomas gave a singular nod. — Naturally. People like you have urgent obligations. —
Scarlett flinched, not from the content of his words, but from the detached manner in which he uttered them, as though he were deliberately suppressing any concern. — Thomas, — she began, taking a hesitant step closer. — These past few days… I truly did not anticipate… — — You shouldn’t linger, — he interrupted, his eyes fixed on an invisible point beyond her shoulder.
— This place, it is simply not intended for someone such as yourself. — She searched his face intently. — What if I desired to remain? — He let out a soft, humorless laugh.
— Then you would forfeit everything—your board, your reputation, your entire world. And for what? A handful of tranquil mornings in a barn? — Scarlett’s heart twisted painfully. — You don’t comprehend, — she whispered.
— If I stay, I will lose absolutely everything. — Thomas finally met her gaze. There was something raw and wounded reflected in his eyes.
— No, I understand with perfect clarity. That is precisely why you need to go. — Outside, the engine of the repaired vehicle idled patiently, awaiting her.
Scarlett stood in silent contemplation for a moment, then nodded slowly. She turned to depart, walking deliberately towards the barn door, but just as her hand reached the cold metal, she paused. She spun around, her eyes shining with an emotion she could no longer restrain.
In two swift steps, she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around him fiercely. — I don’t understand why this causes such pain, — she murmured into his shoulder. — But it does. —
Thomas hesitated for a fleeting moment, then enveloped her in his own arms. The embrace was tight, intensely fierce, and utterly wordless. Then she pulled back just enough to gaze at him, and in that shared look, something profound and unspoken passed between them, something neither possessed the courage to articulate aloud.