Page 57 of Knotting else Matters

The cab wound its way up a narrow, twisting road, the trees growing thicker, the warm, golden glow of the town lights fading to a soft, silver-blue mist. The air grew cooler, the faint, sweet scent of pine and wildflowers drifting in through the open window.

After a few minutes, the car pulled to a stop at the base of a long, winding staircase carved into the hillside, the worn, moss-covered stones gleaming in the pale, silver light of the moon.

“There you go, miss.” The driver gestured up the hill, the faint, misty glow of lanterns lining the path, leading up to the quiet, secluded shrine. “Take your time. Ain’t nobody else gonna bother you up there.”

“Thanks.” I stepped out, the cool, damp grass brushing against my ankles, the faint, whispering breeze rustling through the trees. The cab pulled away, the soft, steady hum of the engine fading into the distance, leaving me alone beneath the quiet, silver glow of the moon.

I climbed the steps, my fingers trailing against the smooth, cool stone, the mist curling around me, soft and silent. The lanterns cast a warm, golden light, their faint, flickering glow dancing against the twisting, vine-covered trees.

At the top of the hill, the shrine stood—small, simple, but beautiful. A curved, moss-covered roof, delicate wooden beams carved with soft, swirling patterns, the faint scent of burning incense drifting from the small, bronze altar. Silver moonflowers bloomed along the edges of the path, their pale, glowing petals swaying gently in the breeze.

A soft, silvery mist hung in the air, the quiet, distant hum of cicadas a gentle, soothing whisper beneath the cool, moonlit sky. The stone steps stretched out before me, leading to the small, open courtyard, a single, ancient tree standing at the center, its wide, twisting branches draped in soft, silvery leaves.

I wasn’t here to pray. Not really.

I was here to be alone. To breathe. To force the sharp, aching knot in my chest to unwind.

To get away from Adrian. From Sophie. From everything that twisted and clawed at me, the wild, desperate ache that refused to let me go.

I leaned against the rough, moss-covered trunk of the ancient tree, my fingers brushing against the cool, smooth bark, the soft, silvery light of the moon spilling through the leaves, casting a pale, ghostly glow across the courtyard.

The air was cool, crisp, the faint, sweet scent of pine and wildflowers drifting around me, the quiet, steady pulse of the moonlight wrapping around me like a cold, soothing balm.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, there was silence. No angry whispers. No sharp, cutting words. No fierce, burning eyes.

Just quiet.

Just the soft, silver glow of the moon. Just… me.

And gods, I hated it. Hated how the silence only made the ache sharper, clearer. Hated how the stillness left me alone with the wild, twisted storm of my thoughts, with the fierce, desperate tension that refused to leave my chest.

Because even here—alone, surrounded by the sweet, silvery calm of the shrine—I couldn’t escape him. Couldn’t escape the way his voice echoed through my mind, the way his touch still burned against my skin, the way his dark, intense gaze seemed to linger, even in the shadows.

Even here, I couldn’t run away.

I leaned against the ancient, moss-covered trunk of the tree, my fingers tracing the rough, cool bark, the soft, silver glow of the moon spilling over me. The shrine was quiet, the gentle, misty breeze rustling through the silvery leaves, the lanterns casting a warm, flickering light against the twisting branches.

For a long moment, I just stood there, staring up at the pale, serene face of the Moon Goddess statue, her delicate, marble features glowing softly beneath the moonlight. Her eyes were closed, her hands folded in a quiet, graceful gesture, a faint, peaceful smile etched across her perfect lips.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, the words slipping out, raw and desperate, a faint, bitter laugh catching in my throat. “Isn’t that funny? I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could just… stay for the wedding, play the good sister, and then leave. But I… I don’t know.”

The soft, misty breeze swept through the courtyard, brushing against my cheeks, stirring the loose strands of my hair. But nothing else happened.

Of course. What was I expecting? Some grand sign from the gods? For the sky to split in two and a chariot of fire to descend, a personal email from the goddess herself?

“Dear Olivia,

Stop being an idiot.

Love, the Moon Goddess.”

Silence. A quiet, soft, suffocating silence.

I leaned my head back against the tree, letting out a slow, shaking breath. “Maybe I should’ve prayed to a goddess that actually gives a damn.”

But the bitterness faded, leaving only the sharp, aching twist in my chest. A quiet, desperate ache that refused to leave.

After a few more moments, I pushed myself off the tree, brushing the moss and dirt from my jeans, my fingers still trembling, my heart still racing. I needed to leave. Needed to get back to the hotel, to sleep, to shut off my mind for a few precious hours before the chaos of tomorrow.

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