By the time Evan and Mira returned to the village, the sun was dipping behind the rooftops, painting the sky in soft gold and lavender. The air smelled like now, filled mostly with families heading home and adventurers bragging about their quests.
Mira walked beside him, her injured arm wrapped in a makeshift bandage. She insisted it didn’t hurt.
Evan didn’t believe her.
“You should’ve let me carry you,” he muttered.
Mira snorted. “I’m not letting you carry me.”
“You were bleeding.”
“It was a scratch.”
“It was a gash.”
“It was a dramatic scratch.”
He glared. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re sweet.”
He nearly tripped. “I— I’m not— That’s not—”
Mira smiled softly. “You ran in front of a wolf for me. That’s sweet.”
He looked away, ears burning. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“I know.”
Her voice was gentle, and that made it worse.
*
They reached the inn, and the innkeeper gasped when she saw Mira’s arm.
“Oh dear! You poor thing! Come, come, let me get the healer!”
Before Mira could protest, the innkeeper rushed off.
Evan crossed his arms. “Good. Someone responsible is finally taking over.”
Mira rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not comforting.”
She laughed. “You worry too much.”
“You almost died!”
“I did not almost die.”
“You stumbled.”
“I tripped.”
“You bled.”
“I’ve bled before.”
“You scared me.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Mira froze.
Evan froze.
The silence stretched, warm and fragile.
Mira’s expression softened. “Evan…”
He looked away, heart pounding. “Forget it.”
“No.” She stepped closer. “I won’t forget it.”
He swallowed hard. “I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she didn’t know what to do with that.
Then she smiled—small, real, and a little shaky.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she said quietly. “Not while you’re around.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that.
Luckily, the healer arrived and saved him from having to try.
*
The healer—a tiny old woman with glowing hands and a surprisingly sharp tongue—patched Mira up in minutes.
“There,” she said. “Good as new. But don’t go picking fights with wolves again.”
Mira pointed at Evan. “He picked the fight.”
“I did not!”
“You hit it with a stick.”
“That was self-defense!”
The healer sighed. “Young people.”
*
Back in their room, Mira sat on her bed, flexing her now‑healed arm.
Evan hovered awkwardly near the window.
“You can sit, you know,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re pacing.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re pacing.”
He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed.
Mira watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Come here.”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Just come here.”
He hesitated, then stood and walked over.
She reached out and took his hand.
He nearly short‑circuited.
“Mira—”
“Thank you,” she said, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “For today. For helping me. For… caring.”
He swallowed. “I didn’t do much.”
“You did enough.”
He didn’t know what to say. His heart was beating too fast, too loud.
Mira looked up at him, her eyes warm and steady. “You know… you don’t have to pretend you don’t care about me.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve been pretending since we were kids.”
He froze. “What?”
She smiled sadly. “You’ve always cared. Even when you said you hated me.”
“That’s not— I didn’t—”
“You did,” she said gently. “But you also didn’t.”
He stared at her, stunned.
She squeezed his hand once more, then let go.
“Get some sleep,” she whispered. “Tomorrow, we figure out our next move.”
He nodded, unable to speak.
As he lay in bed later, staring at the ceiling, one thought echoed in his mind:
Mira knew him.
She always had.
And that terrified him more than any monster in this world.
But it also made him feel something else.
Something warm.
Something dangerous.
Something he wasn’t ready to name yet.
---
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