The late afternoon sun dipped low over the treetops, casting a golden hue across the makeshift base nestled in the heart of the island. A warm breeze stirred the leaves, carrying with it the laughter of children playing in the courtyard. Theron leaned on the railing of the watchtower, arms crossed, eyes fixed on one person below.
Egwene.
She sat cross-legged in the grass, her hair pulled into a messy bun, giggling as little Aurora and Jonah tackled her with improvised wooden swords. Her laughter was soft but clear, lighting up her face like the first ray of sunlight after a storm. Theron's lips curled into the faintest smile, the kind he didn't let others see. Not often, anyway.
"You're obvious, you know," a voice said behind him.
Startled, he turned to see Aurora climbing the last steps of the tower, her arms folded as she leaned casually against the wooden post. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and the wind tugged playfully at her short curls.
"What?" he asked, forcing his gaze away from Egwene.
"You like her," Aurora said plainly, as if she were pointing out that the sky was blue.
Theron rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah... I do. But I don't know if she likes me back."
Aurora snorted softly. "What do you mean you don't know? She went back for you, Theron. She risked everything. We all told her it was suicide, but she still did it."
He looked down at the courtyard again, his brow furrowing. "I know. But sometimes... I wonder if she did it because she cares, or because she's just that brave. That loyal to everyone."
Aurora stepped closer, her voice firm now. "Don't be dense. She would've died for you. That's not something people do for just anyone."
Theron sighed, jaw clenched. "I just... I don't know how to win her heart."
"You're lucky," Aurora said with a small smirk. "Because I want you to. I like you, Theron. And I want you for her."
Just then, movement below caught their attention.
Aaron.
He approached Egwene with that confident swagger that always made Theron's blood boil. Aaron said something, and Egwene smiled — that soft, easy smile that Theron hadn't seen aimed at him in days.
The sight hit him like a punch to the gut.
Aurora noticed. "You're jealous."
"I'm not—" He stopped. There was no point pretending. "Yeah. I am."
"Well then," she said, nudging his arm with her elbow, "it's time to step up. I can help. I know a few things she likes. Want me to give you a head start?"
Theron looked at her, his usual guarded expression softening. "I'd be glad."
---
The sun had nearly slipped beyond the horizon when Theron set out alone, guided by memory and purpose. The path was still rough, winding between thick trees and fallen branches, but he knew the way by heart.
They had stumbled upon the place days ago — a small, hidden clearing overlooking the sea, its jagged cliffs softened by wildflowers and the sound of waves crashing below. Back then, it was just a scenic stop on a desperate return from a supply run. But now, it was more. It was hope.
Theron worked quickly. A small pop-up tent stood at the center of the clearing, flanked by candles he had carefully positioned in a loose circle, their flames flickering softly in the twilight. He'd even laid down a couple of blankets, smoothing them out with quiet precision. The laptop sat at the back of the tent, already queued up with an old movie Aurora swore Egwene adored.
He took one last look around, heart thudding in his chest, then turned and made his way back to camp.
When he found Egwene, she was sitting by the fire, her hair loose and shoulders relaxed, humming to one of the children as they dozed off on her lap.
He walked up slowly. "Hey."
She looked up at him, brow raised. "Hey."
"I want to show you something," he said, extending a hand.
Egwene blinked, studying him. "What is it?"
"You'll see."
She hesitated only a moment before sliding her hand into his. "Alright, mystery man. But I swear, if this is another one of your weird survival tricks, I'm going to—"
"It's not," he chuckled, leading her gently through the woods. "No bear traps. Promise."
On the way, she peppered him with questions.
"Are we going far? Is this about the new storage cave? Did you find chocolate or something?"
He didn't answer, just kept walking, a crooked smile playing on his lips. Her curiosity buzzed around him like electricity.
By the time they reached the edge of the clearing, the sky had deepened to velvet blue, and the candles danced in the shadows. The soft orange glow flickered against the canvas of the tent, and the waves below murmured like a distant lullaby.
Egwene's breath caught in her throat.
"Theron…" she whispered, stepping forward slowly.
He let her go, watching her take it in — the tent, the flickering lights, the laptop glowing faintly from within.
"You remembered this place," she said.
"You smiled here," he murmured, "even when everything else was falling apart."
She turned to him, eyes shining with something unreadable. "Why did you do all this?"
He stepped closer. "Because you risked your life for me. Because I haven't stopped thinking about you since the first time you yelled at me for stealing your knife. And because Aurora told me you love movies."
Egwene laughed softly, one hand coming to her chest. "Aurora talks too much."
"She's a good ally."
There was a long pause. Only the wind and the sea spoke between them.
Finally, Egwene reached out and took his hand again. "Well then, Theron… let's watch a movie."
He led her inside the tent, and as the screen flickered to life, their fingers still intertwined, it felt—for the first time in a long time—like the world outside could wait.
---