CHAPTER 5 — The River No One Talks About
1034 Words
Celeste didn’t plan to go near the river that morning. She told herself she would stay close to the house, maybe help her mother sweep the yard or organize the dusty shelves in the living room. Something normal. Something safe.
But curiosity had a way of tugging at her like a persistent child.
And today, it tugged harder.
The sky was bright, the air warm but not suffocating. The kind of morning that made the province look almost magical — soft sunlight, gentle breeze, birds hopping along the fences like they owned the place.
Celeste stood outside, arms crossed, staring at the narrow path that led toward the fields.
The same path Elias told her to avoid.
Which, of course, made her want to follow it even more.
She wasn’t reckless. She wasn’t stupid. She just… wanted answers. Wanted to understand why a grown man acted like the river was some forbidden territory. Wanted to know why the townspeople’s eyes shifted whenever the topic came up.
Wanted to know why Elias looked at her like she was walking toward something she shouldn’t touch.
She sighed. “Just a peek. Not even the river. Just the path.”
She took a step.
Then another.
The grass brushed against her legs as she walked, the wind carrying the scent of water — faint, distant, but unmistakable. The path curved gently, lined with wildflowers and small stones. It didn’t look dangerous. It didn’t look cursed. It looked… peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Halfway down the path, she heard footsteps behind her.
“Curiosity again.”
Celeste closed her eyes. “You really need to stop sneaking up on me.”
Elias stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His shirt was damp with sweat, his hair slightly tousled, his breathing steady — like he’d been working since dawn.
He always looked like he belonged to the land.
Like the land trusted him.
Like he was part of its silence.
Celeste turned to face him. “I’m just walking.”
“You’re walking toward the river.”
She rolled her eyes. “You say that like it’s a crime.”
“It’s not a crime,” he said quietly. “It’s a mistake.”
She studied him. His jaw was tense, his shoulders stiff. He wasn’t angry — he was… uneasy. Concerned, even.
“Why does it bother you so much?” she asked.
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“Liar.”
His eyes flickered — the smallest reaction, but she caught it.
Celeste stepped closer. “You keep warning me about the river. You keep showing up whenever I get near it. You keep acting like something terrible will happen if I even look at it. Why?”
Elias didn’t answer.
The wind rustled through the grass, filling the silence between them.
Celeste softened her voice. “Is it really that dangerous?”
“Yes.”
“Because the ground is unstable?”
“Yes.”
She tilted her head. “Or because of something else?”
His eyes darkened — not with anger, but with something heavier. Something he didn’t want to name.
Celeste felt a chill, but not from fear. From curiosity. From the sense that she had stepped into a story she didn’t know the beginning of.
“People talk, you know,” she said gently.
Elias’s jaw tightened. “People talk too much.”
“What are they not telling me?”
He looked away, staring at the fields as if the answers were buried somewhere beneath the soil.
“Go home, Celeste.”
She shook her head. “No. Not until you tell me why everyone avoids the river.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe for a moment.
Then he said, “Because someone died there.”
Celeste froze.
He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t explain. Didn’t soften the blow.
Just dropped the truth like a stone into still water.
She swallowed. “Who?”
Elias’s eyes flickered — a flash of something raw, something painful, something he tried to bury but couldn’t.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to you.”
He didn’t deny it.
Celeste stepped closer, her voice soft. “Was it someone you knew?”
He didn’t answer.
But he didn’t have to.
The silence said enough.
Celeste felt her chest tighten. Not from fear — from empathy. From the sudden realization that Elias wasn’t just a quiet man with secrets. He was a man carrying something heavy. Something that shaped the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he avoided people.
Something that lived in the river.
She exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry.”
Elias didn’t look at her. “Don’t be.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“Because the past should stay buried.”
Celeste shook her head. “That’s not how healing works.”
His eyes snapped to hers — sharp, intense, almost startled.
“You don’t know anything about healing,” he said quietly.
She flinched — not because he was wrong, but because he was right.
She didn’t know how to heal.
She didn’t even know how to rest.
She didn’t know how to stop running.
But she knew one thing:
“You can’t protect me from curiosity,” she said softly. “And you can’t protect yourself from the past.”
Elias looked at her for a long moment — too long, too deep, like he was trying to decide whether she was a threat or a lifeline.
Then he stepped back.
“Go home, Celeste,” he said again, voice low. “Please.”
The “please” wasn’t a command.
It was a plea.
A quiet, broken plea.
Celeste nodded slowly.
She turned around and walked back toward the house, the wind brushing against her skin like a whisper.
She didn’t look back.
But she felt him watching her.
Not with anger.
Not with suspicion.
With something else.
Something that felt like fear.
Something that felt like regret.
Something that felt like a story she wasn’t supposed to uncover.
Not yet.
But she would.
Curiosity wasn’t quiet.
And neither was the past.
- Writer
