Page 43 of Traithorn

Isolde looks out the window—the snow lying heavy, like a thick blanket of ice draped over the world. “It’s not raining now, is it?”

The room feels colder after her words, as if the temperature has suddenly dropped, and my heart is crushing underneath the suffocating weight.

Both Celine and I are too stunned at the turn of events, the flames flickering and the wind raging outside being the only sound filling the tension. Isolde turns around, seemingly stiff with her shoulders haunched and unsure if she even can leave us.

“Please, don’t leave,” Celine scrambles to say, her voice pleading and almost breaking at the last word. I’ve never heard her so emotional before, and it causes a lump in my throat. “We’re sorry for everything—”

“A sorry won’t fix anything.”

She glances at the food Celine made for us, then turns her back on it, too. The shadows pull her into their hidden depths. “I need air,” she says at last.

I know she will be back. She just needs a few minutes to clear her head before we go looking for her again.

But when we do, she’s gone.

As if she had disappeared like a ghost.

After all this time, I still loved them.

Still craved their attention.

Their trust.

Their loyalty.

Their love.

But it seems I didn’t love them enough to stay.

Chapter 16

SWEET SORROWS

Isolde, One Year Later

The snow falling indrifts outside clings to my hair as I open the door to the best café in town, the door dinging with my entrance. The sun is just making its appearance on the morning after a pitch-black night, with a brutal cold that made me huddle closer to the fireplace.

“Good morning!” the older lady behind the counter chirps, her golden smile reaching her brown eyes as she notices me entering. “Oh, Isa! Do you want your usual?”

I offer her a small smile, nodding absent-mindedly, still hovering in that in-between space of being asleep and awake. It’s too early at seven in the morning, but I have an early client I need to get to. This is my usual morning routine in the new town I’ve moved to.

Janet is already moving behind the coffee machine with her usual practiced ease. The café’s light catches the rich tone of her dark skin as she works, and her curls bounce with each familiar step behind the counter.

“Cold day outside, isn’t it?” she asks with a soft smile, noticing the snowflakes tangled in my hair.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a winter as brutal as the one here.”

“That’s just us. You’ll get used to it,” she says with a knowing gaze.

Janet’s been running this café long before I moved to Silver Creek a year ago. She’s the kind of woman who remembers yourface, your name, and your usual order. Someone who genuinely cares for everyone who walks through that door. She took me under her wing the day I first came here, lost and unsure after leaving my old life behind.

The thought of that leaves a twinge in my stomach, but I ignore it.

Sliding a drink that smells as amazing as ever, Janet gives me a wink. “There you go, honey. Made it extra strong today. You look like you need it. Enjoy your drink.”

This is why I love her.“Thank you.”

I grab the coffee in one hand, grasping my computer in the other, as I turn around to the otherwise deserted café. No one is up at this time, but it always gets busy at lunchtime.

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