Ch 5- Escape routes and male lead

Nora and Aine had begged, twisted, and practically danced around Sister Imelda’s sharp gaze for hours. “Please,” Aine had said, looking like a cherub who might crumble if denied. “We just need a book. For… research. Yes. Research.”

Nora had backed her up with a long, thoughtful nod, adding gravitas to the claim. “The book could, uh… inspire ideas. And knowledge is power.”

Sister Imelda, standing with arms crossed, gave them a look that could cut stone. Nora could practically feel the invisible weight of her suspicion pressing down. She knows. She knows everything.

But after a pause, Imelda sighed softly. “Very well. Be back by sundown. And no nonsense.”

No lecture. No interrogation. Nothing.

Nora blinked. Aine blinked. Imelda, of all people, was just… letting them go.

For one terrifying second, Nora wondered if the old woman somehow knew — knew they were planning to escape before the higher-ups shipped them away. But the look on Imelda’s face wasn’t suspicious.

It was tired. And soft. And almost… pitying.

Nora didn’t think about it anymore. Thinking hurt.

They slipped out of the orphanage gates and the moment their feet touched the town road, oxygen tasted real again.

“Well,” Aine said, smiling into the sunlight, “step one of escape: freedom hours.”

Step two was much harder: figuring out supplies, routes, and where two nearly-adults were supposed to survive without money.

But Nora had a mental list:

• A map

• A compass

• Bread or anything that didn’t rot in a day

• Information about train schedules or boats leaving the harbor

There was one more item she would never admit out loud: Make sure Ezra doesn’t speak to us ever again in his life.

The book had been very clear — interactions with Ezra were a domino effect. One accidental meeting, then another, then a moment in the rain, then a rescue from thieves, then — eventually — romance and tragedy and death.

Not on her watch.

So when they turned the corner into the outdoor market and Aine tugged her sleeve like an excited toddler, Nora already felt her bones vibrate.

“Pastries first!” Aine declared.

“Supplies first,” Nora grumbled, dragging her away from sugar death.

They stopped at a stall selling small travel sacks and rope. Nora inspected a sturdy-looking rope while Aine pretended to be interested in the bags… until she froze.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

“What now?” Nora hissed.

Aine didn’t answer — she just grabbed Nora’s jaw and manually turned her head.

And there he was.

Ezra. Tall. Black-haired. The exact brand of handsome that ruined plots, lives, and carefully prepared survival strategies.

Looking — of course — like he’d stepped straight out of a dramatic illustration. Leaning against a crate, talking to a merchant, sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp. The kind of presence that made everybody else fade a little in comparison.

Nora’s soul left her body with a soft bye.

“New plan,” Nora whispered urgently. “We go that way.”

“That way is the fish market,” Aine whispered back.

“I’m willing to smell like ocean corpses to live.”

But the universe had never once cared about her preferences.

Because Ezra turned.

Their eyes met.

Nora smiled the way people smile when they step on a nail and don’t want to alarm anyone.

“Maybe he didn’t recognize us,” Aine said weakly.

Ezra lifted his hand in a polite greeting and started walking toward them.

“He recognized us,” Nora confirmed miserably.

“Run?” Aine suggested.

“We can’t run every time we see him,” Nora snapped.

Ezra got closer.

“…okay run,” Nora corrected immediately.

They ducked into the nearest alley — only to discover the alley was not an alley but a dead end leading to a stack of crates and a very startled elderly woman selling herbs.

They turned around.

Ezra was already at the entrance.

Brilliant.

He wasn’t smug or teasing — he just looked… curious. And Nora hated that. The book had said the same thing. Curiosity became fascination, fascination became attachment, attachment became doomed.

“You two again,” he said lightly, hands in pockets. “Didn’t expect to meet so soon.”

“We didn’t either,” Nora said, sounding like someone trying to convince a ghost to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Aine asked brightly.

Nora elbowed her so hard Aine wheezed.

Ezra didn’t seem bothered. “Just helping a friend unload some cargo,” he said. Then — eyes flicking to Nora — “And you?”

Nora needed the most normal, uninteresting answer possible.

“We’re… being… alive,” she announced.

Silence.

Aine made a small squeaking noise that might’ve been laughter or panic.

Ezra’s lips twitched like he was definitely laughing internally.

“Good to know,” he said. “Also — you left this.”

He held out a tiny copper button.

One of Nora’s sleeve buttons.

Her brain short-circuited. She hadn’t noticed it fall. She hadn’t felt it. How… how—

No. Not again. No more book coincidences.

Why was it falling? Why were things always falling? Why was Ezra always the one returning them?!

Why does gravity only attack us when he's nearby? Why is he the Lost-and-Found Fairy of Doom?

“No,” Nora said, stepping back like he was offering a poisoned artifact. “We don’t need it. It’s fine. Keep it. Eat it. Sell it. Frame it. Goodbye.”

She yanked Aine by the wrist.

Ezra blinked. “…eat it?”

But Nora didn’t wait, dragging Aine out of the alley and back into the crowded street until Ezra was nothing but a shadow behind them.

Aine, breathless, finally spoke. “Okay, what is going on with you?”

Nora pinched the bridge of her nose. “We cannot — under any circumstances — have repeated meetings with that boy.”

“Why?” Aine demanded. “He’s nice!”

“Yes,” Nora snapped, “which is exactly the problem. Nice is the first ingredient in romantic disaster and then we die.”

Aine stared. “…what?”

“Never mind. New rule. If we see Ezra, we go in the opposite direction no matter what.”

“Even if he’s not doing anything?”

“Yes.”

“Even if he’s just standing?”

“Yes.”

“Even if he’s on fire?”

Nora paused. “…fine. If he’s literally on fire I’ll reconsider.”

“Nora… what is going on with you?” she asked quietly. “Why are you so scared of him? He doesn’t look dangerous. Not to me.”

Nora didn’t answer.

She wanted to.

She wanted to shrug and agree, to laugh it off, to pretend everything was harmless — just like Aine saw it.

She wanted to believe they’d escape the orphanage soon, live somewhere far away, start over, and be free.

She wanted to believe fate didn’t care enough to interfere.

But the panic in her chest wouldn’t let her pretend.

Her voice came out small and cracked at the edges.

“One week,” Nora whispered. “We leave in one week. No distractions. No… boys. We survive. That’s the story.”

Aine nodded and squeezed her arm.

They walked on.

From behind them — unseen — Ezra watched them disappear into the crowd.

His brows were drawn, his expression uncertain, like something about those girls tugged at a memory he didn’t have.

They felt familiar — and he had no idea why.

He only knew one fact, quiet and instinctive:

This would not be the last time their paths crossed.

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