Chapter 6 - The space he left behind
1400 Words
Elara sat where Rowan had left her.
The chair across the table was still pulled back, angled like he might return if she waited long enough. His coffee had gone untouched, a thin film forming on the surface, the steam long since faded. Even the small silver trophy sat where he had placed it, catching the light as if it didn't know it had become irrelevant.
She stared at it too long.
The conversation replayed in her head - not the words, but the way his voice had changed. The way something in him had locked down the moment he took the phone from her hand. She hadn't meant to cross that line. Hadn't even thought of it as a line until it was too late.
I shouldn't have answered.
The apology stuck in her throat now, useless in the aftermath.
Around her, the cafe had moved on. Orders were called. Chairs scraped. Laughter flared and faded. No one else noticed the fracture that had just opened inside her chest.
She reached for her own phone, then stopped.
There was no message. No missed call. No indication he planned to explain or return.
She paid the bill they haven't finished splitting and stood slowly, the weight of the afternoon settling over her like a wrongness she couldn't shake. Outside the harbor was bright and loud, the boat race long since decided, life insisting on celebration.
She walked without direction, letting the crowd carry her, her thoughts looping back to the sound of the woman's voice on the line.
It's been almost a year.
A year since someone had last seen him. A year since he'd let himself be known by the person who should have known him best.
And she had been the one to hear that truth first.
The realization settled heavy and unwelcome.
She hadn't learn anything concrete - no names, no history, no answers she could define. But she'd felt it. The dept of the wound. The kind that didn't scab over, only learned how to stay hidden.
Rowan hadn't left because of the call.
He'd left because she'd seen a part of him, he worked hardest to protect.
Elara stopped near the pier, gripping the railing as the wind pressed against her. The water below was restless, sunlight fractured across the surface.
She had promised herself she wouldn't get tangled again. Wouldn't mistake proximity for permission. Wouldn't step into someone else's silence and expect it to hold her.
And yet.
She thought of his warning.
I'm not safe to get attached to.
Her chest tightened.
Neither, she realized, was she.
She stayed there until the light shifted and the crowd thinned, the echo of his absence louder than any storm that had come before.
Later that evening
Elara found Rowan on the beach later that evening.
Not that she was looking for him.
After the phone call incident, she was sure that he'd want nothing to do with her - would avoid her the way people did when something fragile had been handled to roughly. She'd replay the moment over and over, the sound of his mother's voice still echoeing in her head, guilt knotting tighter each time.
The beach was quiet in the way only night could make it. Waves crashed relentlessly against the rocks, their rhythm steady, almost punishing. Moonlight stretched across the water like a silver moon, the surface dark and endless beyond it. The air was cold enough to raise goosebumps along her arms, but she barely noticed.
Then she saw him.
Rowan sat on a stretched - out blanket near the rocks, shoes discarded, knees bent, forearms resting loosely on them. The blanket looked rumpled, uneven - like he'd been there for a long time, shifting, settling, failing to find a position that brought any peace.
Her steps slowed.
She hesitated, her body instinctively angling away, already preparing to turn back. Maybe this was his space. Maybe he came here to be alone. Maybe seeing her would only reopen something he hadn't meant to face tonight.
He didn't look at her.
His gaze was fixed on the dark water, expression distant, unreadable. Not angry. Not soft. Just... hallow. As if whatever he was watching wasn't the sea at all, but something far beyond it.
Elara took another step. Then another.
Her heart hammered with each one.
Just as she was about to turn away - convinved she was intruding - his voice cut through the sound of the waves.
"I apologise, I didn't notice you there."
He turned his head slightly, enough to acknowledge her, his tone sincere. Tired.
"Take a seat."
Her eyes dropped to the small space beside him. It felt impossibly close, charged with everything unsaid between them. She pulled her jersey tighter around her waist, the fabric a poor shield against her nerves, and slowly sat down.
The blanket was still warm.
"I-"
"I'm-"
They both stopped.
He let out a soft breath, a faint smile ghosting across his lips as he looked back toward the ocean. "You go first."
Elara swallowed.
"I shouldn't have answered your phone," she said finally, turning toward him. Her voice was steady, even though her chest felt like it might cave in. "I wasn't prying. I swear. I just... it rang, and I didn't think-"
"I know," he said gently.
She blinked, surprised by the absence of anger. He remained facing the waves, eyes reflective in the moonlight.
"I haven't heard my mother's voice in so long," he continued quietly. "I almost forgot the sound of it."
The words landed heavy between them.
Elara's throat tightened. "She must miss you."
A breathless chuckle escaped him, low and humorless. "I'm sure she does. Her only son just packed up and left in the middle of the night." He shook his head. "No note. No explanation. Just... dissapeared."
There was no pride in his voice. Only something close to regret.
"Why did you leave?" Elara asked, the question barely louder than the tide.
Rowan didn't answer right away.
His jaw tightened, the muscles there flexing as if he were bracing himself against something unseen. She could almost feel the words lining up behind his teeth, waiting for permission to exist.
Just as he opened his mouth -
"Atlas!"
The dog came bouding toward them, tail wagging furiosly, paws kicking sand everywhere. Rowan laughed despite himself, dropping his hand to scratch behind Atlas's ears as the dog all but collided with him.
"Why are you here?" Rowan asked, sounding grateful as if the interruption had been heaven - sent.
Atlas ignored the question entirely, pushing his way between them before plopping down with his head firmly on Elara's lap.
She froze.
Then, slowly, she lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his fur. Atlas sighed contentedly, as if he'd completed some sacred mission.
Elara glanced at Rowan hoping - waiting - for him to continue.
But he didn't.
The moment passed, fragile as glass.
She let it go.
The three of them stayed that way as the night stretched, conversation drifting to safer ground - weather, nothing, everything. The ocean never stopped moving. Neither did the thoughts she refused to voice.
By the time the first hints of morning light crept over the horizon, exhaustion weight heavy on her bones.
She didn't remember falling asleep.
Sunlight painted the sky in soft bruised colours - lavender, pale gold, a quiet promise of warmth. Elara woked with Atlas still pressed against her legs and Rowan sitting exactly where he had been, eyes red-rimmed, posture rigid.
"You didn't sleep," she said softly.
He shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."
They walked back together in silence, the unspoken trailing them like a shadow.
Later that morning they found themselves alone again - this time on the porch, coffee cups growing cold between them.
It was Elara who spoked first.
"I left because staying hurt to much."
The confession slipped out before she could stop it.
Rowan looked at her sharply, caught of guard. His gaze held something fierce now, something searching.
"Hurt how?"
She shook her head. "Not like that. I just - everything I knew started suffocating me. Every place, every face reminded me of what I'd lost." Her fingers tightened around her cup.
"So I ran."
He studied her for a long moment, as if commiting her words to memory.
"I lost someone," he said quietly.
- Writer
