The morning mist clung to the village rooftops, veiling the world in a softness that felt almost merciful until one listened closely. Beneath the hush, voices stirred like wind through dry grass, quick and cutting.
At the depot, Joel hauled crates with a grunt when a passing delivery driver slowed his cart near the loading area.
"Where's the tall fellow? The one with the quiet eyes?" the driver asked, adjusting his reins.
Joel didn't look up. "Didn't come in."
"Didn't come in?"
"Second time," Joel muttered, then spat into the dirt and walked away.
In the market square, Mira moved briskly past stalls and wagons, her arms folded tight to her chest. As she passed groups of shoppers and vendors, murmurs trailed after her.
"…they say he stayed the whole night at her house."
"She told Mrs. Holloway he kissed her. Passionately."
"No."
"She said he was out of control. Grabbed her wrist, pulled her in kissed her like a man who couldn't help himself."
"Did she say he forced her?"
"She didn't need to. She made it sound... overwhelming."
The butcher wiped his hands on his apron then leaned over his counter, . "Might've been more than just a kiss, if you ask me. Poor Hana. She was fooled like most of us."
The twins, Marlin and Edra, stood by the post office, munching on pieces of gingerbread.
"Bet Hana's regretting every nice thing she ever said about him," Edra whispered, eyes sharp.
Marlin smirked. "He played the long game. Acted like some soft-spoken saint and then... boom. Straight into Marian's arms."
Nearby, Mrs. Corwin sat with her knitting in her lap, a slow, disapproving shake of her head.
"She should've listened. We all warned her. He came here with nothing, and now he's taken something precious from her her dignity."
Mira clenched her jaw and kept walking, her steps harder now, her shoes hitting the dirt road like declarations.
Further up, Cal leaned lazily against the tailor's outer wall, surrounded by villagers with wide eyes and eager ears. He took a slow breath, then spoke with authority.
"I saw him," he said. "Morning after. Shirt wrinkled, eyes bloodshot. Walked straight out of Marian's front door like he lived there."
A woman gasped. "He kiss her goodbye?"
Cal chuckled low. "Didn't need to. Marian told me he already had. Said he was like a man possessed. Grabbed her waist, pinned her to the wall kissed her like he couldn't stop himself."
"No... Marian said that?"
"Said he didn't ask, didn't wait. Just took what he wanted."
Laughter followed. Cruel, knowing laughter. And it didn't stop it spilled into alleys and over fences, into flour-dusted kitchens and down cobblestone streets.
Up on the grassy ridge above it all, Ethan sat with his elbows on his knees, hands pressed to his temples. The view below was vivid and too detailed. He could see everything: the quiet depot, the huddled market, the steady flicker of movement near Hana's shop its solitary frame standing proudly, alone and unshielded by neighbors. She'd once told him it was better that way. "I like to know where I begin and where the world ends," she had said.
He turned a folded note over in his hand. A second apology. The first he had torn to pieces.
"Ethan!"
The shout broke the morning's haze. He looked up.
Down the hill, a boy waved with both hands. "Kick it down! We're waiting!"
A leather ball rested beside him. Ethan rose stiffly and sent the ball flying with one clean kick. It soared down the hill, and the children whooped with excitement as they scattered to catch it.
"Thanks, Ethan!" the boy called, grinning and waving wildly.
Ethan managed a faint smile, but behind the laughter, a woman pushing a cart had paused to watch him. Her gaze was unreadable. Judging.
He sat again, the smile fading. Mira's voice rang in his memory, tight with restrained hurt: You said you loved her. You don't hurt people you love.
Inside Hana's shop, the air was heavy. She sat behind the counter, unmoving, her hands wrapped around a cup of untouched tea. Mira moved about in the back, arranging boxes half-heartedly.
"Do you want me to close early today?" Mira asked, keeping her tone careful.
"No."
"I only ask because… there are more rumors."
"I've heard them," Hana said flatly.
Hana exhaled slowly, her hand twitching. "Marian said he was out of control. That he grabbed her, she whispered and said, " that doesn't sound like Ethan"
Mira's voice lowered. "Some say she tried to stop him. That he didn't care."
"She's spinning it beautifully, isn't she?" Hana said, standing up suddenly. Her chair scraped against the wooden floor. "And people love it. They eat it up. They love thinking I was the fool."
"You weren't."
"I was. I believed him. I let him in. I felt something again and now I'm mocked for it."
"I don't know what really happened."
"And that's what makes it worse," Hana said, her voice rising. "He hasn't said anything. He hasn't fought. He's just vanished, letting them fill in the blanks. And they're filling them with poison."
Mira moved toward her. "Maybe he's ashamed."
"Of what? The truth? Or me?"
Silence settled for a moment before Hana spoke again, her voice softer but shaking.
"In my head I can hear that woman Marian's voice, just laughing". Part of me " Her voice cracked. "Part of me wonders if it's true, or if she's lying."
Mira added
"If she is, she's not lying quietly. And she has support. Marlin, Edra, Mrs. Corwin they're spreading her words like gospel. And now Cal's painting a picture like he saw something filthy unfold with his own eyes."
Just then, the door flung open. Avery's voice filled the room like sunlight Warm and bright.
"I brought you something sweet!" she chirped, placing a warm bun on the counter. "And look Oliver drew this. It's you and Ethan!"
She took Hana's hand gently and guided her fingers across the surface. The outline of the drawing had been traced with flat beads, carefully stuck along the shapes so Hana could feel the figures.
"That's you, with your cane," Avery explained softly. "And Ethan's the one with the lopsided hat. See? You're under a tree."
No one spoke.
Avery blinked. "Why is everyone so serious? Did someone die?"
Avery asked, her voice cutting through the thick silence like sunlight through clouds.
She looked between the two women, confusion deepening in her expression. Her long single braid, neat and tight, swayed as she moved closer, eyes scanning their faces.
"What's wrong?" Avery asked softly.
Hana hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the counter. Her voice came out small, barely more than a whisper.
"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart," Hana said.
Avery frowned. "Then why do you look like you're about to cry?"
"I'm not" Hana began, but her words faltered.
She turned her face slightly away, but not fast enough to hide the tear that slipped free and traced a slow path down her cheek.
Avery's voice grew more urgent. "Is this about Ethan?"
Hana didn't answer. Her silence was louder than any confession. Her lips trembled, and her shoulders gave a subtle shudder.
"But you are," Avery said, stepping closer, her voice soft but insistent. "You are crying."
She stared at Hana, her small hands clenched tightly at her sides. "What did he do?"
Hana's voice was nearly inaudible. "He hurt me."
Avery's face twisted in disbelief, her fists tightening even more. "What? How? Did he yell at you? Say something awful? Because I'll"
"No, Avery," Hana said quickly, the words catching in her throat. "It's not something you"
"Don't tell me it's not something I can fix," Avery interrupted, her voice rising with determination. "Because if he made you cry, I swear I'm going to find him and give him a pounding he'll never forget."
She spun on her heel and stormed toward the door, her braid swinging with the motion, her boots thudding sharply against the floorboards.
"Tall or not, he's still got bones," Avery muttered. "And I'm still fast."
Hana took a step forward, hand half-raised, as if to stop her but the words didn't come. She stood there, lips parted, listening to the door swing open, then shut with a soft thud.
Only then did she whisper, "Avery…"
But Avery was already gone.
She started at the depot. Joel didn't know anything. She checked the path behind the school, the orchard's edge, the hill above the river. She stopped by the inn, then circled the market square twice, asking vendors if they'd seen a tall man with a tired face and a quiet walk. Most shook their heads. One woman mentioned a ridge.
Avery climbed the grassy rise with grit in her steps. Her eyes scanned the hillside and there he was.
"Ethan!"
He turned. "Avery?"