A Burn

A Burn
The night air is thick with silence. It’s too quiet—too still.

I sit by the window, watching the moonlight spill over the edges of the garden fence. The flowers sway gently in the breeze, but nothing moves beyond them. No footsteps. No voices. Just the wind and the endless hum of my thoughts.

Leomord is asleep in the other room. At least, I think he is. Lately, he’s been pretending a lot. Smiles that don’t quite reach his eyes. Hugs that feel like they’re holding back. And every time I ask what’s wrong, he just says, “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

But I know it isn’t.

Maria tiptoes in, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She sits beside me without a word and hands me a cup of tea.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” I ask softly.

She shakes her head. “I had a weird feeling. Like something’s coming.”

My chest tightens. I feel it too. Like a shadow creeping in from the past, one we tried to outrun.

“I don’t think we’re safe here anymore,” I whisper, finally saying it out loud.

Maria looks at me. “You think they found us?”

I nod slowly. “It’s just a matter of time.”

We sit in silence, sipping tea that’s gone cold. The peace we found in this village was always temporary. A fragile shell around us, waiting to break.

“I talked to Leomord,” I say quietly. “About everything. The gang. His past. He finally opened up.”

Maria doesn’t say anything. She just keeps staring out the window, her face pale and unreadable.

“I think it’s time we leave,” I add. “All of us. Together.”

She looks at me then. “You really think we can escape again? Start over?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I’d rather run with you than wait for them to find us.”

Behind us, the floor creaks softly. We both turn.

Leomord stands in the hallway, shirt wrinkled, eyes heavy.

“I heard you,” he says, voice rough. “And you’re right.”

He walks over, crouches down beside Maria, then takes my hand in his.

“I’ve been trying to protect you by staying quiet,” he says. “But I was wrong. We’re stronger when we face things together.”

I squeeze his fingers. “So we leave?”

He nods. “At dawn.”

~

The sky begins to pale, bruised with soft purples and fading stars, as we pack in silence.

There’s no panic, no rush, just quiet urgency.

Maria folds clothes with steady hands. Grandma wraps the food in cloth bundles, lips pressed tight. Leomord loads the bags into the car with a strange kind of calm, but I know better now. It’s the kind of calm people wear when they’ve made peace with something painful.

I stand in our room, holding a sweater that still smells like wildflowers and wood smoke. The one I wore the first day we arrived here.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

A home we tried to build in the cracks of old wounds. A peace that never quite fit.

Leomord steps in behind me. “You okay?”

I nod. “I just... didn’t think it’d end like this.”

“It’s not the end,” he says gently, resting his chin on my shoulder. “It’s just... a different beginning.”

I let out a breath, one I didn’t realize I was holding. “I liked this place.”

“Me too.”

We don’t speak after that. There’s nothing left to say. Only the weight of memories pressing down as we gather the last of our things.

By the time the sun lifts over the trees, golden and new, the car is full. Bags in the back. Maria in the passenger seat. Grandma curled up with her knitting, like it’s just another drive to the market.

I hesitate before climbing in.

Leomord watches me, a quiet question in his eyes.

“I want to say goodbye,” I whisper.

He nods.

I step out and walk to the edge of the woods. The place where we first kissed. Where we cried. Where I once sat with paint on my hands and dreams in my chest.

I kneel and touch the earth, like it’ll remember me. Like maybe I’ll remember this moment when things get hard again.

“Thank you,” I whisper to no one and everything.

When I turn back, Leomord is waiting. He opens the door for me like he always does—gentle, patient.

As we drive away, I glance at the rearview mirror.

The house gets smaller and smaller, swallowed by trees and distance. But I don’t cry.

Not this time.

Because this time, I’m not running alone.

I’m leaving with my people. My family. My love.

And whatever waits on the other side, whether it’s danger or peace or another storm, we’ll face it together.

The road ahead winds through thick trees, the forest slowly giving way to scattered fields. Morning light spills through the windshield in golden streaks, and for a moment, it almost feels like peace.

But my heart is still heavy.

“Do you think we’ll be safe?” I ask quietly, breaking the silence.

Leomord doesn’t answer right away. His hands grip the wheel tighter. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’ll protect you. No matter where we are.”

I look at his profile, the cut on his lip, the bruise under his jaw. Proof of what he’s already sacrificed for us. For me.

“Even if I lose everything,” he says softly, “I can’t lose you.”

The words settle into my chest like a promise I didn’t know I needed.

I reach for his hand. He squeezes it back.

Maria hums a tune in the front seat, absentmindedly. Grandma has fallen asleep, her knitting slipping from her lap. The car is quiet again, but this time, it’s the kind of quiet that comes with understanding, not fear.

I rest my head against the window.

We don’t have a plan. We don’t know what comes next.

But for the first time in a long time, I believe we’ll figure it out together. We always do, right? It's the power of love and friendship.