Dewhurst town was in full blast. Every individual who lived there was present, each wearing the leaf crown they had crafted themselves.
Who among them would have thought they'd have the chance to see the person they had once ostracized today?
For Aralyn, she did not expect Noah would bring her here. She leaned closer and whispered harshly, "This isn't exactly Fletcher's house."
"Relax. First rule of sneaking in-" he started, but Aralyn cut him off.
"Sneaking in? I'm pretty sure you said breaking in."
Noah nudged her shoulder. "My bad. Anyways, first rule of sneaking in: we need to blend in with the crowd first," he said, nodding toward the people. The square was filled to the brim. Kids running around, chasing their friends. But no twins in sight.
"Aralyn! Sweetie, you're here!"
A high-pitched, warm voice washed over them both. Mrs. Collin came rushing toward them from the heart of the buzzing crowd, her eyes twinkling with happiness when she spotted them. Noah flashed a dazzling smile, and Aralyn stifled hers at the sight of Mrs. Collin's outfit.
The old woman looked like she had been wrapped in autumn itself–coated in orange, with a brown scarf around her neck. "Look, dear. We're a match," Mrs. Collin said, pointing to her own scarf, making Aralyn finally break into a smile.
"Mrs. Collin, are we sure you're in your 60s now? You don't look a day over forty," Noah said with a cheeky smile, wiggling his brows which earning him a smack on the arm.
"You are such a flirt, boy," Mrs. Collin said. "Have you seen Clara? She was looking for you earlier. Oh, there she is!"
Mrs. Collin waved at someone.
"No, no, no, please don't-"
"Hi, Noah," Clara greeted with a smile, giving Aralyn a nod of acknowledgment. "I tried to call you, but it didn't go through."
"I didn't... I don't know where my phone is. It's been missing for days now," Noah said.
"I was wondering, why did you leave so fast the other night?" she asked, confusion etched into her brows, though he did catch a hint of hurt.
"I'm gonna go over there," Aralyn said, stepping away from them. A beautiful black woman was waving her over. Lauren Delaney.
"Did I do something wrong, Noah?"
"I saw you put something into the water, Clara. What was that?"
Clara looked away, lost in thought. "Put... Oh," she tilted her head back as she chuckled. The sun rays hit her face perfectly. She looked every ounce like a Victoria's Secret model. "That's my allergy prescription. It wasn't for you."
Noah's shoulders dropped in relief. "Wooh, I thought you were gonna poison me for a second there."
Clara slowly looped her arm around his, standing closer now. "So, does that mean you're gonna come by my house again? I promise, no poison for you."
"We'll see about that, alright?" he said, giving her hand a light squeeze.
Clara nodded and let him go. "Where is she? I need to talk to her for a bit."
Her eyes landed on Aralyn, who was now talking to the Black woman.
"I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you here. Not in a bad way!" said Lauren, laughing awkwardly as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Will this be the sign?"
"First sign... of what?" Aralyn asked, blinking in confusion.
Lauren's ears turned bright red as she smiled nervously. "Of, uh..." She chuckled, more nervous than Aralyn expected. Her lips curled into a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, I forgot what I was about to say."
Lauren tried to calm herself, looking up at the sky and taking a deep breath, which made Aralyn stifle a laugh. She had never seen someone as nervous as her. Most people would steer away from Aralyn instead of talking to her. Like that woman Aralyn had already recognized even though their first meeting hadn't been under good circumstances who was now throwing dagger-like glares at her from the edge of the square. Maya.
"What I mean was," Lauren continued, laughing breathlessly, "will we- I mean, will I be seeing you again? In future festivals? Like this?"
"Oh," said Aralyn, subtly pulling her scarf higher around her neck. Lauren looked at her with such bright, hopeful eyes. For some reason, she found herself unable to say no. "Y-yeah, I guess."
The woman squealed in happiness, pulling the surprised Aralyn into a hug before letting her go. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just..." Lauren bit her bottom lip to stop another high-pitched squeal as she held both of Aralyn's hands. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."
"Please come down here to write down the baked goods, people!" a voice called from the very front of the square.
"That's my cue! I have to go. See you soon!"
Lauren squeezed her hands once more, giving her a gummy smile before disappearing into the crowd. Aralyn had only a few seconds of silence before she felt a new presence.
"Wow, I never saw Lauren jump like that. Perhaps you have the charm after all," said Clara with a soft smile, extending her hand. "I'm Clara. Clara Whitlock. Are you new here?"
Aralyn shook her hand cautiously. "No, not really. Been here for three years."
"Three years?" Clara repeated, surprised. "I moved here a year ago, but no one has ever spoken about you. What's your name?"
"Aralyn. Aralyn Odea," she answered, her blood running a little hot.
The fact that the townspeople hadn't mentioned her name even once made the walls around her double, and her desire to leave the town burned even hotter. But then Clara continued.
"In that case, you should come by tomorrow night," she said with a sweet smile. "I don't wanna brag, but I can make a mean carbonara."
"What?"
Clara held her hands and looked at her with wide eyes just like Lauren did.
"Please say you will come," she said in a timid voice. "I don't... In case you don't know, I don't really have any friends."
Aralyn couldn't stop herself any longer.
"What do you mean you don't have any friends?" she asked in disbelief. "You're gorgeous, you have a steady job, you-" Aralyn gestured at her, "being like this. It's impossible for no one to want you as their friend."
Clara's eyes sparkled. "Does that mean... you want to be my friend?"
Shit. I should've kept my mouth shut.
"Uh, I-I.."
"Sorry to cut this reunion short," said Noah suddenly as he pointed to the crowd. "I think they were calling for you, Clara."
"Oh. I guess I should go then. Goodbye," she said with a little solemnity in her eyes.
Noah leaned closer to whisper. "We should go. Any time now, Fletcher is going up that podium to start his boring speech."
Clara hesitated for a second longer, her fingers loosening from Aralyn's as if she didn't quite want to let go. "Tomorrow night?" she asked again, softer this time.
Aralyn opened her mouth, but no words came out.
"Clara!" someone called again from the front.
Clara gave them both a small, apologetic smile before turning and disappearing into the crowd, her figure quickly swallowed by the sea of leaf crowns and warm chatter.
Aralyn stood there for a moment, her hands still tingling from the contact.
"You're doing it again," Noah said.
"Doing what?"
"Standing there like someone just rewired your brain."
Aralyn shot him a look. "I am not-"
"You are," he cut in lightly, nudging her shoulder. "C'mon, Scarf. If we stay here any longer, we'll be dragged into whatever communal bonding ritual they've got going on."
She let out a quiet breath, one she didn't realize she had been holding, and followed him as he weaved through the crowd. People brushed past them in laughter, chatter, the rustling of leaves underfoot blending into one continuous hum.
She was pretty sure whatever Mrs. Pinnings was talking about her, it wasn't a good news with how the women around her stared at Aralyn.
For once, no one pushed her away.
Some even smiled.
It felt strange.
Aralyn tugged her scarf a little tighter around her neck, her fingers lingering there longer than necessary. The warmth of the crowd seeped into her skin, into her bones, and for a fleeting second, she allowed herself to imagine.
What if I stayed?
What if this festival, these people, the invitations, the smiles... what if it could be hers?
Mrs. Collin's bright face flashed in her mind.
"Would you make those cinnamon rolls again? I couldn't stop thinking about them."
Aralyn exhaled softly.
Rye cinnamon rolls…
She could almost smell the warmth of cinnamon, the slight bitterness of rye flour balancing the sweetness. Aralyn suspected the old woman would praise anything she baked.
After this is over, Aralyn thought, her gaze lowering as she walked beside Noah, I'll make them again.
The thought came so naturally it startled her.
After this is over.
As if there was an after for her here.
"Hey," Noah said, snapping his fingers lightly in front of her face. "Don't drift off on me now. Stay sharp."
"I am sharp," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
"Mm. Sure you are," he said, unconvinced, but didn't press further.
They slowed as the crowd began to gather more tightly toward the center of the square. A wooden platform stood ahead, decorated with vines and lanterns, casting a soft golden glow despite the daylight still lingering in the sky.
"Right on cue," Noah murmured.
A familiar figure climbed onto the podium wearing a smile that stretched just a little too wide.
Mayor Fletcher.
A ripple of applause spread through the crowd, some enthusiastic, others merely polite.
"Good people of Dewhurst!" Fletcher's voice boomed, arms spreading wide as if to embrace the entire town. "Another year, another gathering beneath Sentinel. A tradition that binds us, strengthens us, and reminds us of who we are!"
Noah leaned closer. "Told you. Boring."
Aralyn didn't respond. Her eyes remained fixed on the mayor as he continued, his voice rising and falling in practiced cadence.
"Tonight, we celebrate not only our harvest, but our unity! Our resilience! The spirit that has carried this town through generations!"
People cheered. Some clapped harder than others. Children darted between legs, laughing, their leaf crowns crooked and slipping as they ran.
Aralyn's gaze drifted, catching a familiar boy weaving through the crowd with restless energy.
Patrick.
He nearly bumped into someone twice before regaining his balance, grinning sheepishly as he kept going, clearly tasked with something he was trying very hard not to mess up. For a moment, Aralyn found herself watching him instead of Fletcher.
It was easier that way.
Fletcher's voice faded into the background, turning into nothing more than distant noise as she observed the simple, chaotic movement of the crowd. The way people leaned into each other, the easy familiarity, the unspoken understanding.
Things she had never truly been part of.
"...and tonight," Fletcher continued, louder now, pulling attention back to himself, "we honor not just our past, but the promise of our future!"
Another round of applause.
Noah stifled a yawn. "If he starts talking about 'the roots that ground us' again, I'm leaving."
Aralyn huffed a quiet sound that almost resembled a laugh. Her fingers brushed against the pearl hidden safely in her pocket. A reminder.
Of why she was here. Of what needed to be done.
The warmth around her dimmed just a fraction.
After this, she repeated in her mind, firmer this time.
After they got the pearl back.
After she fixed what needed fixing.
After she made the rye cinnamon rolls again.
Then, she would leave. Aralyn lifted her gaze once more, her expression settling into something calm and distant.
Beside her, Noah shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against hers in silence.
"Just a little longer," he murmured, low enough for only her to hear.
Aralyn didn't look at him, but she nodded.