The forest seemed to hush around us, like it knew we were holding something too fragile to disturb.
I wanted to tell her everything — how she had changed me, how she was the only thing that mattered anymore, how she owned my heart and soul — but the words felt too heavy, too final.
And yet, I couldn't let her slip away from me without some kind of promise.
"I don't care what happens after the summer ends," I whispered, my lips brushing her ear with every word. "I'll wait. For you. I promise to find you, wherever you are. However long it takes."
Her eyes opened at that, wide and shining, and I thought she might laugh at me, or push me away. Instead, her breath hitched and she said, "And I'll wait for you. Even if you're far away, anywhere… even if we can't see each other. I'll still be yours."
The knot in my chest loosened, replaced by something fiercer, brighter. I tightened my hold just slightly, like I could anchor her to me. "Then that's it. It's settled. You and me."
She smiled — a small, tremulous smile, but certain. "You and me."
Her forehead pressed harder against mine and in the softest voice I'd ever heard, she added, "I won't ever belong to anyone else. I promise you."
The weight of those words nearly broke me open. My hand slid up her back, fingers curling into her hair as I kissed her again, slow and aching. It wasn't hunger this time — it was a seal, a vow pressed into the very air between us.
When we broke apart, her smile was nervous, but steady. "We'll hold onto this," she whispered. "Even when everything else is gone."
I nodded, my own voice too thick to answer. Because I knew she was right. We couldn't control the world outside these woods, or our parents, or the end of summer. But this — we could keep this.
The two of us stayed like that until the sky darkened above, caught in that fragile, desperate closeness, promising ourselves to one another without ever daring to say the word that sat unspoken on both our tongues.
Emma
The next morning, the sun slanted through my window, but it didn't warm me. I sat on the edge of my bed, tugging at the blanket as if it could shield me from what I knew was coming.
Downstairs, Mum's voice, clipped and sharp, carried through the house.
"Emma! Get up! There's work to be done. Breakfast won't wait for daydreamers!"
My stomach sank. Daydreams didn't feed siblings, didn't cover the holes in a family's life when everything was already fraying. I pushed off the covers and shuffled to the kitchen, trying to summon a smile for Zoey, who babbled happily despite the tension around us.
Dad was at the table, looking at a map spread out before him, his brow furrowed. "We have to decide soon. Hull isn't going to wait for us."
His voice was heavy with the weight of inevitability. Mum snapped at the twins to finish their breakfast and at Teddy to fetch milk without spilling it, her sharp words rattling through the morning air.
I tried to concentrate on the little tasks like pouring tea and buttering toast, but my mind kept drifting to the woods, to Tommy, to the last stolen moments in the quiet clearing.
I glanced at Zoey, tugging at my sleeve. "Emmy?" she asked softly. I forced a smile and lifted her onto my hip, trying to calm the lump in my throat.
The twins began bickering over what to watch on the tv while Teddy tried to sneak out with his bike, only for Mum to scold them into submission. My stomach knotted as I carried plates to the sink, wishing I could be anywhere but here.
I thought of Tommy, somewhere beyond the lake, waiting. I imagined him walking into the clearing, hands full of books and sandwiches and my chest ached. But there was no time for longing. There was only work, responsibility and the suffocating knowledge that this summer might be our last together.
As the day stretched on, Dad called me to the shed. "Emma, we need to sort the tools and get ready for moving. Can't put it off any longer." His words weren't angry, only certain — but certainty felt like a blade against my ribs.
I swallowed hard, nodding, but inside, my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't stop thinking about Tommy, the woods, the promises and the looming end of everything I wanted to hold onto.
Tommy
I walked briskly, with my hands shoved deep in my pockets, my jaw tight. Father's booming laughter had drifted up the staircase that morning, a sound that made my teeth grind. Everything about this morning reminded me that the world outside the woods didn't bend to my feelings, no matter how desperately I wanted it to.
Even worse, the memory of last night's promises I made to Emma — the promises we had whispered to each other in the dark — made the reality more unbearable. I'd spent hours plotting how to hold onto Emma, how to delay the destruction of the woods, how to find a way to keep her safe. And yet, all it took was breakfast with my family to remind me that wealth, influence and family expectations were walls I couldn't scale. Not until I grew up.
I clenched my fists, feeling my chest ache, with frustration, with hopeless longing, all while Father talked about council meetings, planning permissions and progress that would crush everything I wanted to protect.
This summer, it seemed, was moving faster than I could even try to hold it.
My mind wandered to the lake, imagining the clearing, imagining Emma waiting for me.
I slipped out before anyone could notice, my trainers silent on the gravel path, my heart hammering with the thrill of sneaking away.
Each step toward the woods was a mix of anticipation and guilt — anticipation for seeing her, guilt for leaving my obligations behind. But nothing mattered as much as finding her, even for an hour.