A Promise
A Promise
The sky hums a soft lavender tune as dusk settles in, painting everything in honey and shadows. I sit on the edge of the porch, a mug of lukewarm tea in my hands, watching Leomord fix the wooden fence. His shirt sticks to his back, dark with sweat, and I can see the crease between his brows, deep as a wound.
Something feels off today.
It's not in what he says, he's said little... but in what he doesn't. He didn’t kiss me good morning. He didn’t touch my hand during breakfast. It’s like he’s here, but half of him has vanished into a mist I can’t see through.
“You okay?” I finally ask, my voice fragile.
He pauses, hammer in hand, then nods, without turning.
That nod says 'no'.
I walk over, the grass brushing my ankles, and take the hammer from his hand. “Leomord.”
His gaze meets mine then, icy, unreadable, almost afraid.
“I saw someone in town,” he murmurs, voice low like thunder behind distant hills. “Someone I used to run with.”
My heart skips. “From the gang?”
He nods, jaw tight.
I drop the hammer.
“Did they see you?”
“I don’t know.”
A silence falls between us, thick and choking. It isn't just fear, it’s the weight of a thousand what-ifs pressing on our ribs.
We retreat inside after that, neither of us speaking. The house creaks in the silence like it knows we’re both unraveling. I cook pasta while he washes his hands in the sink beside me. Our elbows brush. Neither of us moves.
The quarrel comes quietly.
“I told you,” I whisper as I stir the sauce, “we should’ve moved farther.”
He sighs. “We can’t keep running.”
I slam the spoon down. “Yes, we can, if it means staying alive!”
He turns sharply. “So we just keep living like ghosts? No names, no friends, no future?”
Tears sting, but I blink them back. “You promised me peace.”
“I’m trying.”
The sauce burns.
We eat in silence, each bite a cold echo of the things we didn’t say right.
When night comes, we sleep facing opposite walls.
But I know neither of us is asleep.
Yet, we continue to pretend.
~
I wake before dawn. Leomord is gone from the bed. His side is still warm, the blanket creased. For a second, I think maybe he’s out for air. Maybe he just needed to breathe without my fear weighing on him.
But when I step into the kitchen, I see the front door slightly ajar.
Not like him.
I throw on a coat and rush outside barefoot. The grass is wet with dew and my heart pounds louder than my footsteps. The morning is heavy with fog, and the woods that frame our little house seem thicker than ever.
I spot him near the old oak tree, half-shadowed in gray mist, speaking to someone.
A man.
My breath catches. He’s tall, sharp-featured, wearing a leather jacket that doesn’t belong in this quiet place.
I hide behind a bush. It’s wrong, but something inside me screams to stay hidden.
“…not here,” I hear Leomord hiss. “I told you, we’re done.”
“You owe him,” the man says. “He doesn’t forget, Leo.”
Leomord’s silence is like a scream.
Then: “If you come near her, I’ll kill you.”
I flinch.
The man leaves.
I stay still for a long time, until Leomord finally walks back toward the house. When I step out of the fog, he stops like he’s seen a ghost.
“You were listening.”
“I had to.” My voice shakes. “You didn’t tell me they’d find us this fast.”
He runs a hand through his hair, eyes tired. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
“But I’m already scared,” I whisper. “I’m scared every time I open a door. Every time I hear a car.”
“I’m trying to fix this__”
“No, you’re trying to protect me with silence. But silence doesn’t save anyone, Leomord. It just makes them feel alone.”
He steps closer. “I’ll keep you safe. I swear it.”
His hands find my face. Warm, trembling. I lean into the touch, but the ache inside me is sharp.
“You can’t protect me from the truth.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “Then I won’t. Not anymore.”
The promise hangs there, fragile as glass.
We return inside and sit at the edge of the bed, not talking, just breathing, our shoulders touching, our hearts unspoken but trying.
Later that morning, a letter arrives.
No return address. No name.
Just a symbol, drawn in ink.
A serpent, eating its own tail. Disgusting and ugly.
I don’t know what it means, but Leomord goes pale the moment he sees it.
The past has found us again.
But so have we, found each other, finally on the same side of the storm.
Even if the thunder is still coming.
~
I trace the symbol with my fingertip, heart pounding. The serpent's body loops endlessly, inked with too much care for it to be meaningless. It’s not just a threat, it’s a message. One Leomord understands far better than he’s letting on.
"Tell me what it means," I whisper.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks over to the window, arms folded, as though the fog outside might answer for him.
"It’s a mark used by a part of the gang that doesn’t forgive betrayal," he finally says. “A silent vow, once you're in, you never leave.”
My chest tightens. "But you left."
“Not cleanly,” he murmurs. “Not completely.”
I walk toward him, every step heavy with something between fear and defiance. “You said we were safe here.”
“I thought we were.” His eyes meet mine. “But it was stupid to believe it.”
Silence stretches.
Then: “Do you regret it? Choosing me over them?”
Leomord’s jaw tenses. He takes a step closer until I feel the warmth of his breath. “I’d choose you again, Anastasia. Even if it meant running forever.”
I reach up, my hand curling against his chest, where his heart beats fast and frantic. “Then stop shutting me out.”
His arms wrap around me, slow and firm. “Okay,” he breathes into my hair. “No more hiding. From now on, we face this together.”
We hold each other like the world might fall apart the second we let go.
Later, after the letter is hidden in the drawer and the fog thins out, we sit on the porch with coffee neither of us drinks. The silence is no longer heavy—but alive, crackling with unspoken fear, stubborn love, and something that feels dangerously close to hope.
A car passes slowly down the dirt road.
We both watch it in silence.
And we don’t look away until it disappears.