The festivities stretched on late into the night, the laughter and music drifting faintly to where Sol stood at his post. Time seemed to crawl as he watched the garden, the shadows lengthening and shifting under the pale light of the moon. He had been nearly bored out of his mind after the beautiful woman had left, since then, the garden had fallen silent, not a single soul crossing his path.
Occasionally, he’d glance at the peach tree where she had stood, his mind replaying her quiet words and the haunting beauty of her presence. But as the night wore on, even those memories dimmed, leaving him with nothing but the cold and the stillness around him.
Finally, the noise from inside began to fade, voices and footsteps echoing softer and softer as guests departed. The doors creaked open now and then as the last few people left, their laughter carried off into the quiet night. Sol’s shoulders drooped as he waited, each moment stretching longer than the last, until finally, he heard the faint patter of footsteps approaching.
A young servant boy, slightly out of breath, came to a halt before him. “Oh, you’re still here?” he asked, glancing around as if surprised. “Everyone’s gone now you can leave for the night. Sir Garrick said you’re free to go.”
Panic washed over Sol. He gave the boy a quick nod, his voice edged with worry as he asked, “Then… who will handle the cleanup?”
The boy raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. “What? No one’s expecting you to clean up, not tonight,” he replied with a slight grin. “ Sir Garrick told me himself you’ve done more than enough, standing out here all night.”
Sol’s heart was still pounding. Had he somehow done something wrong? The last thing he wanted was to make a mistake that would cost him this precious job. He hesitated, glancing back at the garden with an anxious frown. “Are… are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The boy gave an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I’m sure. Look, Sir Garrick said to take the night off. Tomorrow, you’ll be back here again, and trust me, there will be plenty more to clean up then.” He gave Sol a nudge. “Now go get some rest before you drop.”
Sol nodded, still unsure, his heart pounding heavily. Could it be because of the woman from earlier? The memory of her passing glance still lingered, as if it held some silent significance he couldn’t quite grasp. But, not wanting to test his luck further, he forced himself to relax. He’d made it through the night, and for now, that would have to be enough.
As he turned to leave, though, he couldn’t shake the lingering unease that nagged at him as if this peaceful night, the beauty of the garden, and even the woman’s fleeting glance, were all too much to be real, a quiet ache that he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the relief of leaving his post, or even the lingering fear of punishment. It was something more a yearning that he barely understood, stirred by the briefest of encounters and the softest of words.
Sol left the restaurant in silence, slipping into the quiet streets as the city rested under a blanket of stars. Each day that followed was much like the last, the rhythm of work and routine a steady, familiar lull. He kept to himself, blending into the background as he had always done, a quiet observer in a world that barely noticed his presence. Nothing remarkable happened in those days, except for a single encounter that lingered uneasily in his memory.
One evening, as he was tidying up, Garrick approached him with an unusual look in his eyes. Sol tensed, sensing the man’s demeanor was more guarded than usual. Garrick’s gaze was sharp, studying him quietly, as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface.
“Tell me, Sol,” Garrick said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “Have you seen anything lately… or perhaps overheard something you shouldn’t have?”
The question took Sol by surprise. He blinked, unsure of what to make of it. “I… I don’t understand, sir,” he replied honestly, his mind racing to recall anything that might be relevant. He hadn’t exactly been paying close attention to anything outside his duties, especially after his encounter with the woman in the garden. Garrick watched him closely for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he gave a curt nod.
“Never mind,” Garrick said, his tone brisk as he dismissed the conversation. He didn’t push the topic further, leaving Sol with an uneasy feeling that lingered long after Garrick had gone.
For the next few days, Sol couldn’t shake the weight of Garrick’s question. It gnawed at him in the quiet moments, and though he tried to brush it off, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind it. His mind wandered back to the woman, to the soft way her voice had drifted through the garden air. But he dismissed it quickly, forcing himself to refocus on his tasks. Whatever Garrick had meant, he didn’t need to know more than he already did.
One ordinary night, as Sol finished his tasks and made his way home, he followed the familiar path, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night. The cool air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and faint blossoms, a rare calm settling over the world. But as he neared his small house, something caught his eye, a figure by the river, just visible in the moonlight.
He squinted, trying to make out who it could be. A woman sat on the riverbank, her silhouette cast in silver by the moon’s glow, yet her face remained hidden. Sol frowned, puzzled. It was well past midnight, and no one ever wandered this far, not at this hour. The only visitors he’d ever had here were the occasional messengers who brought urgent notes from the restaurant. And yet, this woman wasn’t dressed like any servant he’d seen, nor did she appear as a person carrying a message.
His curiosity stirred, mingling with a sense of caution. He approached slowly, keeping his footsteps light as he edged closer, careful not to disturb the stillness. He didn’t dare call out, unwilling to break the almost ethereal silence that surrounded her. The woman’s head was slightly tilted, as if she were lost in thought or mesmerized by the river’s quiet flow. The faintest breeze ruffled her hair, which cascaded down her back like a dark, flowing river of its own.
Something about her seemed achingly familiar, though he couldn’t place why. Sol hesitated, unsure of whether to continue forward or turn back.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
But then he caught himself, shaking off the unease. This is my home, he reminded himself, almost scolding the knot of tension that had settled in his chest. Why should I be afraid? If someone wants to sit here, it’s none of my business. With that thought, he set his shoulders and kept walking, resolving to pass her by without a second glance.
The path seemed longer than usual as he walked, his eyes stubbornly fixed ahead, trying to ignore the quiet presence by the river. Yet as soon as he passed her, a soft voice, melodic, yet unmistakably clear reached him.
“Sol, is it?”
He froze mid-step, the sound of his own name hanging in the air. Her voice was gentle, a curious mix of warmth and elegance, and it stirred something within him. Sol turned slowly, his heart pounding, and looked at the woman, her face now visible in the moonlight.
She was looking at him with a slight smile, her gaze calm but piercing, as if she’d known him all his life yet was seeing him for the first time. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He just stood there, feeling a strange mixture of apprehension and awe.
Now that he could clearly see her face in the moonlight, Sol’s breath caught in his throat. there was no mistaking her. It was the same woman from the garden, the one who had stirred something deep within him with just a glance. Panic fluttered in his chest, but he quickly composed himself, giving her a respectful nod but not the deep bow he would give in the restaurant, but a subtle gesture, one that felt more natural out here under the open sky.
“So, it’s miss,” he said softly, his voice barely a murmur. “I’m… I’m sorry about that day in the garden. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
For a moment, there was silence between them, and he wondered if perhaps he had said too much. Her gaze was steady, a small, unreadable smile tugging at her lips, as if his apology amused her in some quiet way.
“Interrupt?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly. “You didn’t interrupt me, Sol. In fact…” She paused, glancing up at the darkened sky, as if searching for the right words. “In fact, I found it… intriguing. Not many people would have spoken the way you did.”
Her words surprised him. He’d braced himself for a scolding, but instead, she seemed almost thoughtful, her eyes drifting back to his. “Tell me, do you often find yourself by the river like this?”
The question took him off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. “I… live nearby,” he managed, gesturing vaguely toward his small, worn house down the path. “This is where I return every day, after work.”
She seemed to consider this, a gentle curiosity in her gaze. “Then I suppose we share a bit of the same path tonight,” she said softly. “And don’t apologize for your words, Sol. Sometimes, a simple truth can bring light to what we hide in silence.”
The gentle grace of her tone disarmed him, and he found himself nodding, though he didn’t quite understand what she meant. He only knew that her presence seemed to pull at something inside him, like an invisible thread binding him to this unexpected moment by the river.
The woman turned slightly, her gaze trailing over the modest home Sol called his own. There was a hint of amusement in her expression, but it wasn’t unkind, it was almost curious, as if she were looking at something rare and unfamiliar. She lingered in silence, seeming to study his house in the same way one might study an unusual relic from a distant land. Sol felt a faint prickle of self-consciousness as her gaze moved over the worn door and the faint cracks in the walls.
“So,” he said, clearing his throat and gesturing awkwardly toward the house. “Yes… this is where I live.”
Her gaze shifted back to him, and a faint, unreadable smile flickered at the edges of her lips. “It’s… humble,” she said at last, her voice gentle.
Sol swallowed, unsure of what to say. No one had ever spoken of his home that way, and he wasn’t sure if she was mocking him or if she truly meant it. He cast his eyes downward, scratching the back of his head, feeling suddenly exposed.
“It’s all I have,” he replied quietly, more to himself than to her. “But… it’s enough.”
She nodded, her expression softening, and he thought he saw a glimmer of understanding in her eyes, as though the simplicity of his words had stirred something within her. She took a step back, casting a lingering look at the house.
“I don’t often have someone to share such a quiet moment with.” she said, her voice low and thoughtful.
Sol could only nod shyly still scratching his head, a quiet warmth spreading in his chest at her words. He hadn’t expected such kindness, especially from someone who seemed so far removed from his world.
And then as it looked as if she was turning to leave, she paused, her gaze drifting back to him thoughtfully. With a small sigh, she moved toward a smooth rock outside his house, where the faint traces of an old fire were visible in the blackened earth. She sat down, brushing the edge of her gown absently as though deep in thought.
Sol stood there, uncertain, watching her with a mix of curiosity and wariness. He couldn’t quite shake the confusion and slight discomfort her presence stirred in him. What could someone like her want here, lingering by his humble home?
“Do you sit here often?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. Her tone was casual, but there was a flicker of interest in her eyes as she looked at him.
“Uh… sometimes,” he replied, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “It’s quiet here at night.”
She nodded, as if his answer made perfect sense, then cast her gaze toward the quiet river nearby. The soft glow of moonlight reflected off its surface, filling the air with a faint shimmer. Her expression softened, taking on an almost wistful look.
“I don’t know what I expected,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “There’s… something different about this place, though. It feels far from everything else.”
Sol felt a pang of curiosity but kept silent, simply watching her. He wanted to ask her what she meant, why someone like her, so obviously distant from his world would find herself by this quiet riverside. Yet he held back, feeling that some unspoken boundary lay between them.
She glanced at him and tilted her head, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Do you always say so little, Sol?” she asked, amusement flickering in her eyes.
He shifted uncomfortably, feeling a bit foolish. “I… I guess I’m not used to talking much.”
Her smile softened. “That’s all right. Sometimes silence speaks more, anyway.”
They fell into silence again, each lost in their own thoughts. Sol felt the weight of her presence, both strange and unexpectedly comforting. Part of him wanted her to stay, though he couldn’t understand why.
After a few quiet moments, she finally rose from the rock, brushing a stray petal off her skirt. “Well, Sol,” she said softly, her gaze lingering on him. “Thank you. For… sharing this moment with me. Not everyone would.”
He nodded, still uncertain what to say, the unfamiliar warmth in his chest refusing to fade.
As she began to walk away, she paused mid-step and turned back, her expression somewhere between playful and challenging. “Aren’t you going to ask my name?” she said, arching a delicate eyebrow.
Sol blinked, caught off guard. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask. After all, he wasn’t used to speaking freely with guests or anyone, really.
He finally managed a faint, uncertain smile. “I… I figured someone like you wouldn’t expect someone like me to ask,” he admitted softly, almost embarrassed.
She studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if looking for some hidden answer. Then, with a quiet smile that softened her features, she said, “Lyra.”
The name hung in the air, warm and shimmering like a hidden melody. Sol nodded, as if committing it to memory. “Thank you,” he murmured, unsure what else to say.
Her gaze lingered on him, a strange warmth in her eyes. “Well, Sol,” she said with a trace of amusement, “I’ll remember you.”
With that, she turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the night. Sol watched until her silhouette faded, his heart beating just a bit faster than usual, her name echoing softly in his mind like a secret he was meant to keep.