Page 13 of Crowned

The next moment, he’s stepping forward, his hand reaching out as if to steady me, and then, without another word, he pulls me into his arms. The force of his embrace is almost too much, as though he’s afraid I’ll slip away from him again if he loosens his hold.

At first, I don’t know how to react—his touch feels too real, too grounding, but at the same time, it only deepens the confusion swirling in my chest. His breath is ragged against my hair, the sound of it betraying his strained control.

“Malia...” His voice cracks on my name, and I feel his body shudder slightly, as though he’s trying to hold himself together. “Where have you been?”

His words are gentle, but laden with a desperation that hits me in the gut. It’s as if he’s pleading with me to have an answer, to explain whatever has happened. I can’t give him one.

I pull back a fraction, just enough to look at his face, but his hands remain firm on my back, like he’s scared I’ll vanish again. The intensity in his eyes is almost overwhelming. There’s fear there—fear I’ve never seen in him before. His brow is furrowed, and his lips are pressed tight as if he’s holding something in, something he’s afraid to let slip.

“You were gone for so long,” he adds quietly, his voice rough. His words don’t quite match the softness of his tone. They tremble under the weight of his worry.

I try to process the flood of emotions that rush through me—confusion, dizziness, and a creeping sense of loss that I don’t understand. But none of it makes sense. None of it connects. I look up at him, my brow furrowing as I search his face for something—some explanation.

“I-I don’t know,” I reply, frowning. “One moment I was on the cliff with you, and the next...I was somewhere else.”

His jaw clenches at my answer, but there’s no anger in him, only more concern. I can see the conflict playing out behind his eyes—he wants to push, to demand, but he holds back. Instead, his hands soften their grip on me, and he shifts his weight, lowering his tone.

A memory of a figure in the forest, the being of light and shadow, lingers at the edge of my consciousness, like a half-remembered dream.

“You disappeared, Malia. Vanished into thin air in the arms of a stranger without warning. I’ve been out of my mind with worry for the last three days, searching for you non-stop.”

The weight of Vance’s words settles heavily on my shoulders, and I feel a pang of guilt for causing him such distress – even if I don’t remember it.

Three days? I remember staring at the ocean like it was two minutes ago.

What’s going on?

I reach up to touch his cheek, the warmth of his skin grounding me in the present moment, comforting me as I try to do the same for him.

“I-I’m sorry, Vance. I never meant to worry you,” I whisper, my voice catching with emotion. “I-I don’t understand what happened either...”

“I know,” he says, more gently now, the panic in his voice ebbing into something more restrained, more careful. “It’s alright. It’s okay. Can you remember anything? Anything at all?”

He strokes my hair, as if the touch could soothe whatever storm rages within me. I don’t understand what happened. I don’t even know where I’ve been, why I’m here now, or what this place is. But Vance’s calmness, despite the storm of emotions I can feel rolling under the surface of his touch, pulls me in.

“I’m sorry…no” I lean into him instinctively, craving the comfort of his presence, even though everything inside me is still reeling.

“Okay. I’m here now,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft against my ear. “You’re safe.”

But I’m not sure if I believe him. Safe? How can I be when I don’t even know where I’ve been, what’s happened to me?

But I nod anyway, not trusting myself to speak, my body trembling in his arms.

“We’ll figure it out together, Malia. Whatever you need, wherever this journey takes us, I’m by your side. Just…don’t go off without me again, okay? We have to stick together. It doesn’t matter how safe this place seems, we can’t let our guard down.”

“I won’t.” If I can help it. “I promise.”

“Come, let’s get out of here and find somewhere else to spend our day. You need to rest.”

His words are quiet but firm, like the anchor I’ve needed in the chaos of my mind. As we leave the forest behind, I can’t shake the feeling that the trees are watching us, that the earth beneath our feet is not quite as solid as it seems. The air feels thick, the forest shifting behind us, the sounds of unseen creatures stirring in the shadows. The breeze carries a whisper, but the words are lost, as if the forest itself is speaking in a language I can’t understand.

Vance keeps his arm around me, a constant, grounding presence, his touch almost possessive now, as if he’s afraid to let go.

I lean into him, grateful for the warmth and strength of his body next to mine. His arm feels like a shield against everything that’s unsettled me—the forest, the questions, the strange sense of not quite belonging anywhere.

The path beneath our feet is soft, but I barely notice the ground beneath me anymore. The sound of our footsteps crunching on the grass is the only thing I can focus on, the steady rhythm of it both comforting and unnerving. The birds overhead sing their songs of freedom, their voices echoing in the distance as if they too are calling us away from the darkness we’ve just left behind.

We walk in silence, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s a silence filled with everything we’ve both been through—his fear, my confusion, the space between us that still feels vast, despite the closeness of our bodies.

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