After finishing the talk with Mr Arl, I made my way back in the start of a storm. There was now a chill in the air, dark clouds overhead, odd drops spitting down, and a wind that could hold me up if I leant into it. Needless to say, I didn’t dawdle.

Back at the dorms, I took a moment to just take a breath, something about this weather suffocating, then another moment to brush off as much water as I could. Finally, I walked to our room.

My brain churned, putting together the conversation with Mr Arl into something I could tell Hyraj, amused as I imagined her reaction, only to then freeze, realising I probably shouldn’t tell her everything. He hadn’t told me to keep any of it secret, but it might not be good if the tax office (or whatever it is) knew he was going to quit soon. Better still if Hyraj could honestly say she didn’t know if asked.

Ugh, I hated office politics… despite never working a day in my life in one.

I didn’t want to lie either, though. Sighing, I rubbed my face, all of a sudden rather tired. Well, if I couldn’t tell her and couldn’t lie, I would just have to tell her I couldn’t tell her, confident she would understand. It wasn’t like she made a habit of prying into my life.

My mind made up, I knocked on the door.

One second, two, then the scrape of her chair. Three, four, five—the lock clicked, door opening with a creak. Her face appeared in the opening, looking the same as always, not the same as always. Tired, but not the kind of tired she should have at this time on the weekend when she didn’t go out anywhere.

Everything I’d been worrying about a minute ago was washed away by the flood of concern that only served to make me anxious. I could worry all I liked, but there wasn’t anything I could do, afraid to ask.

So I just smiled and entered the room, silence between us. I could at least do that. She liked silence, after all. Not that it was all that silent with the wind howling, rain pelting the window, drumming an occasional beat.

I settled on the bed, legs curled. It had taken a while, but, with the lack of chairs for most of my time in this world, I learned to make myself comfortable.

Funny how much I could come to love something that I’d barely paid attention to before. Not just the sound of heavy rain or the splatters on the window, but the smell, the refreshing feeling in the air, even how the thick clouds meant it was kind of dim. Cosy, making me want to snuggle with a blanket and drink hot chocolate and let my thoughts wander.

Thunder rumbled, distant, yet loud. I turned around to check on Hyraj, the promise coming to mind, but she hadn’t moved, sitting still as she read. If she was fine, no need to disturb her.

It wasn’t long until lunch and we ate the curry (or maybe it was a vegetable stew) in silence. A loud silence, the storm working up a roar. Howling wind and drumming rain and the odd rumble of thunder. So loud, I could barely think. Didn’t want to think. All my thoughts were muddled, still worried how to tell Hyraj about what happened, still anxious over what was bothering her, unsure if it was the storm or something else.

She seemed fine, though, so I didn’t want to bother her. We ate, then I took our bowls through and washed them. When I came back, she was at the table again, reading, always reading. Perfect posture, like nothing in the world could shake her—

Lightning flashed, room painfully bright for a split-second, then the bone-shaking rumble, so much louder than before—the lightning strike so much closer, barely a second between the flash and rumble. I worried it might have even struck the other end of the village.

Turning back to Hyraj—barely noticeable, she shook. Nothing in the world could shake her… except herself. Softly smiling to myself, I took the step from bed to desk and rested my hand on top of her hand that gripped the book so tightly. A moment, then a shaky breath slipped out her mouth.

“That is it… I am fine,” she said, her usual voice like a whisper with the wind outside, and she pulled away from my touch.

Confused, I just stood there, unsure why she was acting different. If not like this, I thought I could try and distract her another way. “Know how, I have fun with Sisi today,” I said, slipping off my hat.

She didn’t look right away, but eventually did, turning just enough to glance at me. It felt like her glance lingered a bit too long, though. It should have only taken a second to see my messy hair and laugh, yet she was still looking after a few seconds, not even a smile on her lips.

My smile faded, feeling stupid. I wasn’t good for much to begin with and I couldn’t even make her smile when she needed it. Thinking, thinking, always thinking, but nothing good ever came from it.

An intrusive thought, I wondered if I should have just said yes to Mr Arl. Wouldn’t need to bother Hyraj any more. A comfortable life… but would I be satisfied?

No, that was never really a choice for me, was it? I liked Sisi, I liked Mr Arl, I even liked Frinnef, but it wasn’t the kind of comfortable like I had with Hyraj…. The incident with Mrs Frinchen had taught me that. Hyraj supported me. I could be useful to Mr Arl, but could he support me? Could I accept his support?

I didn’t know. Well, that was my answer. Maybe if we had longer, maybe if I felt something more, but I didn’t.

Did Hyraj feel the same way about me? Could she accept my support, or was I just someone who could be useful to her? I wanted to know so badly it hurt, yet worried so much about the answer that I could never, ever ask it.

My life hadn’t taught me to be vulnerable. No, it taught me to expect nothing and still be disappointed. That things had gone so well with Hyraj until now was a real miracle.

It wasn’t good to think things would go well forever.

The rain drummed against the window, wind howled, building creaked and groaned, so very loud, yet it felt so quiet. She glanced at me and I stared at her.

“That is it,” she said, turning back so that she couldn’t even glance at me, “will you be leaving immediately?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Thoroughly thrown off by the question, I asked, “Leaving for where?”

“Mr Arl.”

“But… I went already? He wanted me for the morning,” I said, still so confused.

She let out a bit of a huff. “There is… no need to be considerate. Mr Arl has already asked if I know of any family he should speak to before proposing to you.”

As if joking, I lightly said, “Even if he asked me, I don’t know—” only to stop there, the realisation hitting me like a truck. She knew.

“So tell me, when will you be leaving? Today? Once the storm lightens?”

Smiling softly to myself, I replied, “I said no.”

“And I told you, I am well aware of his plans, so—”

“I told him no,” I said. “He asked to marry and I told him no.”

Silence, that loud silence amidst the storm, that quiet silence where I didn’t even think, waiting to hear what she had to say next.

“That is it,” she whispered, “you told him no?”

“I told him no.”

Her hand that had been ever so slightly trembling this whole time finally stilled, only for a shaky breath to slip out—as if she was expelling the tremble from her body. “Are you sure? His reputation, he is a good man and was good to his passed-wife, and his career is stable with good prospects. While the difference in age is large, I doubt he would be… expectant, so it would not be a burden as such.”

It was almost funny hearing her talk like this, for once not speaking at her calm pace. I was even tempted to ask, if he was so good, why didn’t she marry him. However… I didn’t. It wasn’t exactly excitement in her voice? More like… desperation, or like she was trying to convince herself. Like she wasn’t talking to me at all, just letting out the thoughts she’d told herself.

Anyway, that she knew he had proposed, I felt like I could say a little more on what happened. “He wasn’t interested in me as a wife, but a mother,” I said.

“Is that not fine? You care for Sisi, no?” she said.

I shook my head—not that she saw, not that she’d know what it meant if she did. “I… have cared for a lot of children. I care for every child I see. But a mother—what even is she? I never knew. I care for children, I want to care for children, but I do not love them. Not like a parent. Maybe a sister or a cousin, but not a mother. I want Sisi to be happy, but she doesn’t need me be a mother, she has her father.”

“Is it that?” Hyraj muttered.

My turn to sigh, I stepped back to the bed, settling down on it. This conversation had taken a lot out of me and I didn’t have much left after the chat with Mr Arl to begin with. “If I marry… I want love.”

“You don’t think you could come to love him?”

I smiled to myself, bittersweet. “Honestly, not only him, I don’t think I’ve… liked any boy or man. They all look such hard work. When I think about… being a wife, I think I’m better off on my own. Or with you. I like this very much. It’s… comfortable.”

Sort of rambling by the end, I stopped myself and hoped I hadn’t offended her, not sure how she’d take what I said.

“You never found a man particularly handsome?” she asked.

“Is it that? Not much, I suppose? They quite all look the same to me,” I said, unsure how exactly to answer. Like, some celebrities were handsome, but I, like, never picked one out and hung up posters and stuff that other girls seemed to do. And at school, girls gossiped about who the “hot boys” were, but I didn’t see anything special about them or any other boy. No love-at-first sight, no crushes.

She didn’t reply right away. Silence, one second becoming ten, and I wondered if the conversation was finished. Half a minute passing, passed, then she asked, “Is that perhaps because you prefer women?”

I almost answered yes, barely stopping myself with the word on the tip of my tongue. “Prefer” was… a euphemism, one that came up a lot in her book. A lady in it preferred a man who could make her laugh, one gentleman preferred a woman who could make him wince with her smile.

She was asking if I’m gay?

“That is it, I don’t think I do. Man or woman, I can’t say there’s been anyone I… prefer,” I said, stumbling. I had nothing against gay people, but did this world? That anxiety pushed me to change the conversation, so I asked, “What about you? What kind of man do you prefer?”

“The kind of person I prefer is not a man,” she said.

She took in a deep breath and let it out.

“There is a tradition among my people, one that apparently comes from Kroustoa. Older girls are encouraged to write sweet letters and send gifts to each other. I have read that it is to prepare them for shallow men; however, like all traditions, I doubt it began and continues with any such intention.”

She shifted in her seat, idly giving her book a tap before continuing.

“So I partook. At my parents’ encouragement, even. I wrote countless letters to other girls and sent countless gifts. It all came so naturally when, to me, other girls were so beautiful, so interesting, so funny. All I had to do was tell them how I felt.

“For years, that was fine. Some of them grew out of it and wrote to boys, but I still had a few such friends. However, my parents began to chide me for it. They would make comments on how childish it was to still be doing it at my age. Until, at last….”

Pausing there, she brought up her hands to cover her face for a moment, then carried on.

“Truth spoken, my family is rather, not exactly wealthy, or, rather, has a different kind of wealth? To put it simply, my parents have the expectation of me to become Krinjor. It is not an unreasonable expectation either. If I followed their advice, I am sure it would happen.

“Their advice, though, is to… marry a man and have at least one child. That is something I cannot bring myself to consider. As grateful as I am for the upbringing they provided me, full of love and lacking nothing, I cannot deny myself on this.”

At the end, she spoke with such conviction, voice so clear—I saw why she believed she could become the leader of the country, yet I also saw her hand tremble.

Sure enough, her voice quivered as she said, “If only they had another child to carry this expectation….”

Silence settled after that, giving me room to think. She really had given me a lot to think about. Just that, well, had she? I didn’t need to have an opinion. This was all… things to know. Like, what, was she telling me all this because she wanted my approval? No way.

Anyway, it wasn’t like she was the first person to come out to me. Back in my world, at the orphanage, a few had over the years, so I sort of knew what to say, but didn’t want to sound condescending….

I settled on something simple: “Thank you for speaking truth.”

She didn’t turn to look at me, but, this time, I could feel she was talking to me, not just talking aloud. “You do not feel uncomfortable staying with me? You do understand what I mean by preferring women?”

“I understand, and I am comfortable,” I said, almost laughing at how dense she thought I was. Smile growing, I said, “After all, because you prefer women, you don’t prefer me, does it?”

“I do, though. I very much prefer you.”

My smile froze, heart giving a rather painful thump as if what she’d said gave it an electric shock. Within the second, I felt my cheeks start to prickle, burning hot. Men had stared at me in the streets, boys at school made rude comments, but… Hyraj hadn’t lied when she said complimenting women came naturally to her. How she’d said it—so simply, so honestly—felt different. Or maybe it was because I hadn’t noticed her staring at me that way before, because I felt comfortable with her, that it felt genuine.

She “very much preferred” me. It said nothing, but felt like it said so much.

“That is it,” she said, standing up, “I shall go stay at the inn—”

“No!” I said—in English. Realising, I said again, “No.”

She stilled, stood in front of the desk. “No?”

“That… there is no need.”

Bringing up her hand, she let out a giggle. It sounded almost childish coming from her, how she was always so composed, so mature. “You would have me stay here, knowing how I feel for you?”

“I… trust you,” I whispered.

For a long moment, nothing was said. The rain poured and wind howled and she stood there. “Very well,” she whispered back and sat down again, shuffling the chair back under the table. Opening her book, she began to read.

It felt… anticlimactic, but that wasn’t a complaint. I was happy with how things were. I didn’t want anything to change.

She read, the weather stormed, and I sat on the bed, glad it was just loud enough that I didn’t need to listen to my thoughts.