Chapter 3 — Warnings in the Wind
859 Words
Celeste woke up earlier than she wanted to, not because she was rested, but because the province had its own way of dragging people out of sleep. The morning air was cool, the curtains swayed gently, and the distant sound of a rooster echoed like a reminder that she was far from the city she knew.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The room felt too quiet. No cars. No sirens. No neighbors arguing through thin walls. Just the soft hum of nature — and somehow, that silence felt louder than noise.
After breakfast, she decided to walk around the neighborhood again. She told herself it was to “explore,” but deep down, she knew she was looking for something familiar, something to anchor her in this unfamiliar place.
The town was already alive. Children ran barefoot along the road, women chatted while sweeping their yards, and old men gathered under a tree, laughing about something she didn’t understand. Everyone seemed to belong here.
Everyone except her.
As she walked past the sari‑sari store, a gentle breeze brushed against her skin. It carried the scent of grass, soil, and something faintly metallic — something she couldn’t quite place. She paused, looking around.
That was when she saw him again.
Elias.
He was walking along the dirt path, carrying a bundle of wood on his shoulder. His shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat, and the morning sun highlighted the sharp lines of his face. He looked strong, steady, and completely uninterested in the world around him.
People moved aside as he passed. Not out of fear — but out of habit. Like they had learned to give him space.
Celeste watched him, unable to look away. There was something about him that didn’t match the quiet town. Something heavy. Something hidden.
Aling Rosa, the store owner, noticed her staring. “You’re looking at Elias,” she said softly.
Celeste turned to her. “Is that a bad thing?”
The older woman sighed. “Not bad. Just… be careful.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Celeste asked. “Did he do something?”
“No,” Aling Rosa replied. “That’s the strange part. He keeps to himself. Doesn’t talk much. Doesn’t join events. Lives alone. People don’t know anything about him.”
Celeste frowned. “So people avoid him because he’s quiet?”
“Because he’s hiding,” the woman whispered. “And people who hide usually have a reason.”
A chill ran down Celeste’s spine.
She didn’t believe in gossip, but the way the woman said it — cautious, almost fearful — made her uneasy.
Later that afternoon, Celeste found herself walking near the fields again. She told herself she was just exploring, but she knew the truth: she was hoping to see him.
And she did.
Elias was repairing a wooden fence, hammering nails with steady, practiced movements. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms dusted with dirt. He looked focused, almost lost in his work.
Celeste hesitated, then approached him.
“You’re working again?” she asked.
He didn’t look up. “There’s always work.”
“You don’t take breaks?”
“No.”
She shifted awkwardly. “You know, most people say hello when someone talks to them.”
He paused, hammer mid‑air. “Most people don’t talk to me.”
“Maybe because you look like you’ll bite them,” she muttered.
He finally looked at her — a slow, deliberate glance. His eyes were dark, steady, and far too intense.
“I don’t bite,” he said quietly. “But I don’t entertain curiosity either.”
Celeste swallowed. “I’m not curious.”
“You are.”
She hated how easily he could read her.
He returned to his work, but his voice softened — barely.
“You shouldn’t walk around alone,” he said. “Especially near the river.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“And you didn’t listen.”
Celeste blinked. “How do you know where I walked?”
He didn’t answer.
The wind picked up again, brushing against her skin like a warning.
“Is something wrong with the river?” she asked.
Elias’s jaw tightened. “Just stay away.”
“Why?”
He hammered another nail, the sound sharp in the quiet air.
“Because this town isn’t as safe as it looks.”
Celeste felt her heartbeat quicken. “Are you talking about… people? Or something else?”
He looked at her again — really looked — and for a moment, she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
“Go home, Celeste,” he said, voice low. “Before the wind carries things you’re not ready to hear.”
She stepped back, unsettled.
As she walked away, the wind rustled through the fields again — louder this time, almost like a whisper.
And for the first time since arriving, Celeste realized something:
The province wasn’t just quiet.
It was hiding something.
And Elias…
Elias was right in the center of it.
- Writer
