Threads of Love and Jealousy
The morning sun climbed higher in the sky, its golden light spilling over the town square and painting the cobblestone streets in soft, shimmering hues. There was an air of quiet determination that settled across the town as people moved with purpose—residents carrying supplies, loading carts, and fortifying buildings as the looming uncertainty of the City's future sat heavy on their shoulders.
Among those who worked tirelessly was Becca. Her long dark hair was pulled back, strands sticking to her face as she juggled crates of supplies and papers detailing accommodations she had been tasked to oversee. Despite the strain of her role, her energy was infectious, and it often drew people toward her—a light amidst the shadows of their harsh reality.
Today, however, her focus flickered.
Every now and then, her gaze wandered across the square, searching for him. The man with piercing blue eyes—eyes so bright they seemed to hold a light of their own—eyes that had watched her far longer than she cared to admit.
He stood near a line of wagons, arms crossed as he conversed with a small group of workers. Even dressed plainly, in dark trousers and a fitted white shirt rolled to the elbows, his striking looks were impossible to ignore. Broad-shouldered, with the sharp jawline and tousled blond hair that framed his face just so—he carried himself with a casual confidence that made him seem untouchable.
Becca bit her lip as she adjusted a list of names in her hand, stealing another glance. The man turned, as if sensing her eyes on him, and caught her staring. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his blue gaze locking with hers across the distance.
Becca's heart stumbled, and she turned quickly, her cheeks flushing hot. "Ridiculous," she muttered to herself, shoving the papers into a bag slung over her shoulder.
"Still watching him, I see."
The voice startled her, and Becca whipped around to find Jack smirking at her, a bundle of rope slung over his shoulder. "You've been gawking at him for weeks now. When are you going to talk to him?"
"Mind your own business, Jack," Becca shot back, her tone sharp, though her face betrayed her embarrassment.
"Not a chance," Jack replied, grinning. "I think he likes you, by the way."
"Get lost," Becca muttered, swatting him with her papers before marching toward the next building. But Jack's words lingered in her mind. He likes you.
Later that morning, Becca found herself in one of the old storage buildings, sorting through blankets and rations when a familiar voice broke the silence.
"Need a hand?"
Her head shot up, her pulse stumbling as she turned to see him. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame casually, his bright blue eyes dancing with quiet amusement.
"Jace," Becca said stiffly, forcing herself to focus on the pile in front of her. "I've got it covered."
"Clearly," Jace replied, stepping into the room and crouching beside her to pick up a stack of blankets she'd accidentally dropped. "Looks like you're drowning in all this."
Becca sighed, exasperated. "Why are you here?"
Jace shrugged, placing the blankets neatly on a crate. "You seemed overwhelmed." He paused, glancing up at her with a faint smirk. "And you've been avoiding me."
"I haven't been—" Becca started to protest, but the words died on her lips when he stood, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him.
"You've got nothing to be shy about, Becca," Jace said softly, his voice a deep murmur that sent an unexpected flutter through her chest. "I don't bite."
Becca swallowed hard, her bravado faltering under the weight of his gaze. "I'm not shy."
Jace's smile widened, the faintest dimple appearing on his cheek. "Good. Then maybe you'll say yes when I ask to walk you home tonight."
Becca stared at him, caught completely off guard. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I want to," he replied simply, his tone earnest. "And I'd like to get to know you better."
Before she could find a response, Jace leaned close, his voice a soft whisper near her ear. "Don't say no just yet. Think about it."
He turned and left her there, stunned and breathless, as the door creaked softly shut behind him.
At the town square, the atmosphere was far more lively. A gathering of townsfolk had formed near a large shaded tree, exchanging stories about places they'd seen in the City and sharing scraps of maps or notes they had pieced together. Lara was among them, standing near the center with her restored arm resting casually against her bag. She listened intently, scribbling on her map as people spoke.
"Every road looks different now," one older man grumbled. "The city changes every week—good luck mapping anything accurate."
"We still need to try," Lara said firmly, her voice clear and steady. "If we don't understand the layout, we'll never survive long enough to figure out its secrets."
At that moment, a familiar voice called her name.
"Lara."
She turned, startled to see Elias walking toward her. He carried a small wrapped package in one hand, and even from a distance, his commanding presence silenced the murmurs around them.
"Who's that?" someone whispered.
"That's Elias," another muttered. "Lucky woman."
Elias approached Lara with a faint, knowing smile. "You've been busy," he said quietly, his gaze flicking to her half-finished map. "But you forgot to take care of yourself. Again."
Before Lara could respond, Elias handed her the package. "Food," he said. "You'll need it."
Lara blinked, flustered by his attention. "You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to," Elias interrupted softly, just loud enough for the onlookers to hear. He turned to the crowd, his gray eyes sharp. "Give us a minute."
The group dispersed reluctantly, muttering as they left the two of them alone beneath the tree. Elias turned back to Lara, opening the package to reveal soft bread and stew.
"Eat," he ordered, crouching beside her.
Lara sighed, sitting down on the grass. "You're impossible," she muttered.
Elias smirked. "You say that, but you're still here."
As Lara began to eat, Elias watched her with quiet intensity. He reached out, brushing a crumb from the corner of her mouth before she could stop him.
Lara froze, cheeks flushed. "Elias—"
"I told you," he murmured, leaning closer, his voice low enough to send a shiver down her spine. "I take care of what's mine."
Her breath caught as he kissed her softly, slow and deliberate, the world fading around them.
From a distance, Margot stood watching, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Her chest burned—not with anger, but with something far more bitter. Jealousy.
She had felt it from the moment they'd pulled Elias from the shadows—his strength, his quiet intensity, his presence that seemed to command everything around him. She had been drawn to him instantly, her feelings tangled in admiration and longing.
But it was Lara he had chosen. Lara he looked at with such tenderness.
Margot's jaw tightened as she turned sharply, walking away before anyone could see her expression.