My feelings for Theano continued to deepen after that afternoon by the stream. She remained my cheerful light, my anchor in a world that often felt adrift in internal noise and external awkwardness. Every shared conversation, every quiet moment of comfortable silence, every glance that held understanding felt like building something solid and real in my life. I felt myself falling in love with her, a slow, steady blossoming that was filling some of the empty spaces the voices left untouched, a feeling that was entirely my own. I wanted to show her how much she meant to me, to give form to the depth of these new feelings that were growing within me, not just with words, but with something that felt significant, a gesture that would speak louder than my fumbling voice often could.
I wanted to express this love that was building in my chest. The thought of simply saying the words felt too small, too plain for the complex warmth she brought into my life, for the way she saw the hidden spark in me. I wanted to express it in a way that felt… special. An indirect expression, perhaps, one that would show her the value I placed on our connection, the value I placed on her, without the raw vulnerability of a direct confession just yet.
I found her near the market a couple of days later, as the late afternoon sun was starting to slant low. The air smelled of dust and ripe fruit. My heart was beating faster than usual, not from anxiety about the voices, but from nervousness about what I was about to ask.
"Theano," I said, my voice a little hesitant.
She turned, her smile brightening immediately when she saw me. "Himerios! Are you done with your errands?"
"Yes," I said, taking a breath. "I... I wanted to ask you something. There is a place I know, near the coast. Hidden among the rocks. The sunset there... it's beautiful. It feels like it belongs only to that moment." I looked at her, trying to convey the significance of the spot, the feeling of it being special, just for us. "Would you... would you meet me there? The day after tomorrow? Just before sunset?" This meeting, this planned shared moment in a place that felt like our secret, was my indirect expression. It was a promise of time together, of sharing something beautiful away from the world, a way of saying 'you are important to me' without having to use the heavy words.
She looked at me for a moment, her expression thoughtful, and then her smile softened into something warm and knowing. "By the sea? At sunset? Yes, Himerios. I would like that very much." Her willingness, the gentle acceptance in her eyes, made my chest feel light. She understood, perhaps not the full depth of my feelings, but that this was important to me, a special invitation. The voices were quiet during this exchange, God perhaps indifferent, Goddess humming with a quiet approval. "Connection," Goddess seemed to murmur. "A good feeling."
As the planned day approached, my anticipation grew, a warm knot in my stomach. The promise I had made, the plan for our special meeting, felt like a fragile, precious thing I was holding carefully. I went about my day, helping my father with his tasks, my mind drifting to the upcoming meeting, to the sight of the sunset by the sea, to Theano's smile.
Then, in the late afternoon, as I was finishing loading supplies for Father onto the cart, he called me over. His voice was firm, the lines around his mouth set, a look of clear purpose in his eyes. "Himerios," he said, handing me a heavy, wrapped package. "I need you to take this delivery to the next village. Quickly. There is an urgency to it that cannot wait."
My heart sank, a physical drop in my chest. The next village was a journey of several hours, there and back. It would take me well past sunset, past the time I was meant to meet Theano. A wave of internal conflict, sharp and cold, washed over the warmth of my anticipation. The promise to Theano, the one I had just made face-to-face, my indirect expression of love, the anticipation of our special meeting… vs. the duty to my father, the responsibility of the task he had assigned me, an urgency he stressed.
"The task. It has practical importance. It benefits the household. It fulfills your role. It is a command from authority. Go," God commanded instantly, his voice a hard, unyielding presence in my head, prioritizing logic, duty, and obedience above all else. "This is the sensible choice. The expected choice. The required choice. The only choice. Consequences of failure are significant." His voice felt like polished stone, cold and absolute, focused solely on external structure and obligation.
"No! The promise! The connection! You promised her! She will be waiting! She will be hurt! The bond with her! Value her trust! Value the feeling! Value her! Choose the heart! Choose the connection! Do not cause pain!" Goddess cried out, her voice a desperate melody of feeling and connection, emphasizing the emotional weight of the promise made directly to Theano. Her voice was like the sound of wind chimes in a storm, beautiful but fragile against God's stone.
They clashed fiercely, their voices rising in my head, a whirlwind of conflicting demands and values. God argued for duty, for obedience to authority, for the structure and order of family and society, for practical consequence and avoiding Father's displeasure. Goddess argued for connection, for trust, for the emotional value of the promise made to the one who saw my spark, for the importance of feelings over cold logic. I stood frozen, the package heavy in my hands, my body a battleground for their internal war. My mind raced, trying to find a way to do both, to explain, to send a message, to reschedule. But the voices left no room for finding solutions, only for choosing sides, one over the other. They were too loud, too insistent for me to think clearly.
The pressure intensified. God's voice, backed by the ingrained respect for my father's authority, the fear of disappointing him, the practical consequences of failing the task, gained volume and weight. His arguments felt heavier, more insistent, drowning out Goddess's desperate pleas. Duty felt like a physical weight pressing down on me, pinning my feet to the ground, turning my body towards the road to the next village.
Slowly, reluctantly, compelled by a force stronger than my own will, my feet turned towards the road that led away from the sea, away from the setting sun, towards the next village. God's voice resonated with a sense of grim satisfaction. "Duty prevails. The correct choice is made. Logic has guided the action. Emotion is overridden." Goddess fell silent, her presence a faint, sad echo in the sudden quiet God left in his wake.
I delivered the package, the journey a blur of internal turmoil. Guilt gnawed at me with every step, a bitter taste in my mouth. I had broken my promise. I had hurt Theano, failed my own attempt to express my love in a special way. The thought of her waiting alone by the sea as the sunset faded, the sky painting itself in colors we were meant to share, sent a sharp, aching pain through my chest. The Voices Force Choice had been made, and the outcome felt devastatingly wrong, even if God deemed it 'correct' and logical.
I found Theano the next day, my heart heavy with the apology I owed her. I saw her by the market, standing near the fruit stall, her face etched with a quiet sadness that made my stomach clench with guilt. I walked up to her, my hands trembling slightly, unable to meet her eyes fully.
"Theano," I started, my voice raspy, barely a whisper. "I... I'm sorry." That was all I could get out at first, the word thick with the weight of my failure and guilt, a raw sound in the busy marketplace.
She looked at me, her bright eyes clouded with hurt and confusion. She didn't speak for a moment, just watched me, and the silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken disappointment. "You didn't come, Himerios," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly, the hurt in her voice mirroring the pain in my chest. "I waited. I thought... I thought it was important to you. You asked me to be there."
The pain in her voice was like a physical blow, hitting me harder than any punch could have. I flinched inwardly. It was important! More important than... than almost anything! But the words felt trapped again, caught between my desperate need to explain and the impossibility of telling her the whole truth. I took a breath, forcing myself to speak, to explain the part I could, to convey the external force that had pulled me away.
"It was important," I insisted, my voice stronger now, though still rough with emotion. "More important than almost anything right now. I wanted to be there. But my father needed me. There was a delivery, urgent, to the next village. It took longer than I expected. I couldn't... I couldn't say no to him. It was a duty I had to fulfill immediately. I didn't have a choice." The words felt inadequate, hollow, unable to convey the internal battle that had forced my hand, the way the choice had been stolen from me by the voices' relentless command. I couldn't tell her about God, about the duty being prioritized above my will, about the invisible force that had compelled my feet down the wrong road, the true nature of the 'choice' I didn't make.
She searched my face, looking for the truth behind my fumbled explanation. I saw her initial hurt, the pain of feeling stood up and disappointed, slowly soften as she saw the genuine anguish in my eyes, the distress etched on my face, the way my hands were still trembling slightly. She didn't fully understand the force that had compelled me, she couldn't, but she understood the conflict between a promise made to her and an urgent duty to my family. She saw that this wasn't a simple slight, but something that had clearly caused me pain as well, something difficult I had faced. She didn't push for details, didn't demand to know why I couldn't have sent someone else or left a message. She saw the difficulty of the position I had been in, the genuine remorse in my apology.
"Oh, Himerios," she said, her voice still soft, but the sharpness of the hurt lessening, replaced by a fragile understanding. "I... I understand. Duty to your father... that is important. I was just... disappointed. And worried when you didn't come." She reached out, her hand covering mine where it rested on the edge of a stall, her fingers brushing my skin. Her touch was gentle, reassuring, a small gesture of connection across the space of my difficult choice. "I know you value our time. It's alright."
A wave of relief washed over me, so powerful it made my knees feel weak, mixed with the lingering guilt and sadness. She understood the external conflict, the difficult situation I was in. This difficult choice, forced upon me by the voices, and Theano's remarkable understanding of the circumstances in its aftermath, did not diminish my feelings, but threw them into sharper relief. The indirect expression (the planned meeting) had failed, leading to pain and betrayal, but my honest apology and Theano's willingness to understand the situation had shown me the depth of her kindness and patience, even if she couldn't see the full truth of the forces I battled. The simple, insufficient words I had used to explain felt completely inadequate to hold the weight of her kindness. I knew, with a certainty that went beyond the voices, that I had to tell her the truth of my feelings, directly and unequivocally. I had to take that risk, even if it meant exposing a part of myself that felt too vulnerable, even if it meant facing potential rejection after this failure. The indirect expression had failed, but it had paved the way, through pain and fragile understanding, for the most important confession of my life.