Chapter 68

Chapter 68
Joy's POV

The morning sunlight spilled lazily through the curtains, chasing away the shadows that had clung to me all night. I sat at the table, a half-eaten pancake on my plate, the sweetness almost tasteless on my tongue. Elsa was curled in her usual spot near my feet, nibbling on a piece of carrot as though she didn't have a care in the world. I envied her for that.

Eli came bouncing into the room, hair sticking up in every direction, his shirt buttoned wrong—as always. He grinned at me like nothing in this world could ever touch him. "Grandma says you burned the first batch again," he teased, pointing at the plate stacked high with pancakes that leaned a little too dark around the edges.

I rolled my eyes, pushing his chair toward him. "Eat, or I'll feed Elsa instead. She appreciates my cooking."

He laughed, dropping into the chair and shoving food into his mouth with exaggerated drama. "See? Delicious. Even if you tried to poison me, I'd still eat it."

For a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost.

Grandma walked in from the porch, her voice carrying the tone of someone who had just come from a conversation worth repeating. "The whole town is buzzing," she said, folding her arms. "They say the mayor's house burned down because of a candle. Others whisper it wasn't an accident at all."

Eli's fork paused midair. "You mean... like someone set it?"

I felt a chill crawl up my arms, the hair on my skin rising. "Why would anyone do that?"

Grandma sighed, sitting down heavily. "People say the mayor owed money. Others say he made enemies too powerful to forgive. Some even claim they saw strangers near the property that night—figures who didn't belong."

The words lingered in the room like smoke. Eli chewed slower now, his grin fading into something more thoughtful. I stared at the table, tracing invisible patterns with my finger. A man and his wife, burned alive. The image pressed into my mind, unwanted, refusing to leave.

"Gossip is dangerous," Grandma finally added, her voice lower, sharper. "But when so many stories overlap, there's usually some truth in them. Best we keep our ears open, but our mouths shut."

Eli gave a quick nod, but I couldn't shake the weight settling in my chest.

Eli lingered long after breakfast, pretending to fiddle with Elsa's cage but stealing glances at me like he was working up the courage for something. I caught him once, and he looked away so fast it almost made me laugh. Almost.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "So... I was thinking." His voice wavered, but he kept going. "Why don't we go out? Just you and me. A real date."

The words hit me like a stone to the chest. My fork clinked against the plate as I set it down. "Eli..." I shook my head. "That's not a good idea."

He tried to grin it off, but his eyes gave him away. "Why not? You're always here, hiding behind pancakes and rabbits. You deserve... I don't know, something fun."

Before I could reply, Grandma stepped in, wiping her hands on her apron. She'd been listening—of course she had. Her eyes softened when they landed on me, but there was steel behind them too. "Joy, sometimes you have to let people in. You've been through so much... and this boy, he's not the worst thing that could happen to you."

"Grandma—" I started, but she cut me off with a look, the kind only she could give.

"Life doesn't pause because we're afraid. Say yes, even if it's just for one evening."

Eli leaned forward, hope flickering in his expression. For a second, I almost said yes just to make that look stay on his face. But then Adrik's voice echoed in my head, dark and possessive: You're mine. You'll always be mine.

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

Eli's eyes searched my face, waiting. My smile had been small, forced, but I saw the way he lit up at it—like it was the yes he'd been begging for. Grandma caught it too, her lips curving as though she'd been waiting years for me to loosen up.

Neither of them saw the panic beneath my ribs, the tightness in my throat.

Eli leaned back in his chair, relief spilling out of him in laughter. "Great, then it's settled. I'll pick you up tomorrow night."

Tomorrow night. The words rang in my head like a countdown.

Grandma clapped her hands together softly, her eyes warm. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

I nodded, unable to tell her that it had been the hardest thing I'd done in weeks. But I didn't have the heart to take the joy away from them—not after the heaviness of last night, not when Grandma looked at me as though I'd just promised her I'd keep living.

So I sat there, wearing a smile that wasn't mine, feeling the walls of my own lie close in. Eli was already talking about where he might take me, Grandma humming with quiet happiness, and all I could hear was the echo of Adrik's voice in the back of my mind, low and dark like a curse.

Mine.

Grandma pushed her chair back with a grin that didn't match her tired bones. "Alright, lovebirds, let's go plant some vegetables and potatoes. No better way to pass time than with soil under your nails."

Eli chuckled, glancing at me like he thought the nickname was the sweetest thing in the world. I forced a smile, pretending I didn't feel the weight of it pressing down on me.

"Come on, Joy," Grandma said, already tying her scarf around her head. "Fresh air will do you good."

So I followed, because saying no to her wasn't something I could do. Eli walked beside me, his hands shoved into his pockets, too eager to hide the excitement dancing in his eyes.

Outside, the air was sharp, smelling faintly of damp earth. Grandma handed Eli a shovel and me a small basket of seeds. "Potatoes here," she said, pointing at the far edge of the garden. "And don't be lazy about it, Eli—I'll know."

He laughed, rolling his sleeves up, and for a second the world felt normal. Just three people in the garden, digging holes, planting life where there had been none. But even as I knelt and pressed seeds into the dirt, my thoughts weren't on the soil. They were on shadows, on fire, on blood that stained memories.

Eli brushed dirt from his hands and leaned closer. "Not so bad, right?"

I nodded again, because it was easier than telling him the truth. Grandma hummed softly behind us, her voice a comfort, but the only thing echoing in me was silence—dark, watchful silence.

As I pressed the last seed into the soil, a wave of heat rushed through me—but it wasn't from the sun. It was from the memory of last night. My body had felt strange, restless, craving something I didn't fully understand yet couldn't ignore. I had felt the need to be touched, and every time I closed my eyes, it was him I saw. Adrik. His hands, his eyes, the way he owned every part of me even when he wasn't there.

I had tried to fight it. Tried to silence it by taking matters into my own hands, hoping the pressure would break if I gave in to the urges. But nothing worked. No release came, only the burning shame of realizing that even in my most private moment, it was still him—the man I should hate—that consumed me.

I must have been too lost in the memory, because suddenly Grandma's voice snapped me back. "Joy? Why's your face so red, suddenly?" She squinted at me, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Is it the heat? Oh, my poor child..." Her concern wrapped around me like a net, suffocating.

Before I could even answer, Eli was already on his feet, abandoning the shovel. Dirt clung to his palms, smearing his shirt as he rushed closer. "Joy? Are you okay?" His brows knit with worry, his voice soft but insistent. He looked at me as if I was fragile glass about to shatter.

And that was the cruelest part. Neither of them knew. Neither of them would ever understand the war raging inside me, the filth of my thoughts, the chains invisible to everyone but me.

I forced a weak smile, lowering my eyes to the dirt so they wouldn't see the truth burning in them. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.

But Grandma wasn't convinced; I could see it in her eyes. Eli wasn't either. And still... I prayed they would never know.