The air around Shokma River shimmered that morning, thick with mist and secrets. Dew clung to every blade of grass, and the water murmured softly as if whispering to itself. It was a day that felt different—like the world had taken a breath and was waiting for something to happen.
Nancy woke early. She had barely slept. The images of Yuna's face—radiant, unmarked, admired—haunted her dreams. Her envy had grown into something sharp and restless, cutting her from the inside. Each time she saw Yuna laugh, something inside her twisted tighter.
But today, Nancy told herself, things would change.
She spent the morning by her mirror, brushing her dark hair until it gleamed like ink. When she looked at her reflection, she whispered, "No one will take my place. No one."
By noon, she made her way to the river, where Yuna and the others usually met. She carried a small woven basket, covered with silk cloth. Inside was her plan — simple, clever, cruel.
When Yuna arrived, sunlight danced on her face. She smiled when she saw the girls, her clay water pot balanced on her hip.
"Yuna!" Laboo called out. "You're late. We thought you'd forgotten us!
Yuna laughed softly. "Mother needed help. The shelter's roof was leaking again."
Rinie smiled warmly, but Nancy said nothing. She only stepped forward, graceful and calm, her basket hanging loosely from her arm.
"I brought something special today," she said, her voice smooth as oil. "A game we used to play in my old village. The one who wins gets to make a wish."
Laboo's eyes lit up. "What kind of game?"
Nancy crouched beside the riverbank, lifting the silk cloth from the basket. Inside lay three small glass beads — crimson, sapphire, and jade. They glittered in the sunlight like stolen stars.
We drop the beads into the river," Nancy explained, her smile faint but practiced. "Each of us must dive to fetch one. Whoever brings hers up first wins."
Rinie frowned. "That water's deep, Nancy. And the current's strong today."
But Nancy only laughed. "What's life without a little challenge?"
Then she turned to Yuna, her eyes softening. "You'll play, won't you? You're not afraid, are you?"
Yuna hesitated. Her gaze drifted to the river — wide, gleaming, whispering against the rocks. She'd fetched water here since she was small. The river had never harmed her.
All right," she said quietly.
Nancy's smile deepened. She picked up the crimson bead and held it up like a drop of blood in the sunlight. Then she tossed it far into the water, where the current ran fast and cold. The other beads followed — one blue, one green — scattering across the current like fleeing birds.
"Go!" she cried.
Laboo shrieked and ran first, splashing in up to her knees, laughing. Rinie hesitated, then waded in to keep watch. But Yuna—light as wind—moved deeper, her steps sure and calm.
The water caught her skirt, pulled gently, and then she disappeared beneath the surface.
Nancy's heart thundered. Her plan was cruel, yes—but not deadly. The spot she chose hid a sharp tangle of roots and stones. Just enough to scratch, to frighten, to ruin that perfect face. She waited, a tight smile trembling on her lips.
Seconds passed.Then a minute.
Laboo called out, "Yuna?"No answer.
Rinie's voice sharpened. "She's been under too long!"
Nancy's stomach lurched. She hadn't meant for—
Suddenly, the river roared. The calm shimmer broke into ripples, swirling faster and faster. From beneath the foam, Yuna burst upward, gasping for air. Her hands clutched not one, but all three beads, shining in her palms like jewels of light.
The others ran to help her ashore, shouting and laughing in relief. Water streamed down Yuna's face, glimmering in the sun, and for a moment she looked otherworldly — as if the river itself had blessed her.
Nancy stood frozen. Something brushed her ankle — cold, unseen. She looked down and gasped. Her basket, left too close to the edge, was being pulled slowly into the water. She reached for it, but her foot slipped, and she fell with a splash.
The current seized her shawl and dragged it away. Her beads, her mirror, her silk—all gone, swallowed by Shokma's laughing waves.
"Are you all right?" Yuna cried, running to her. Despite her shivering and dripping, she reached out a hand to Nancy, helping her stand.
Nancy blinked, her pride cracked open like glass. "You're helping me?" she whispered.
"Of course," Yuna said simply. "You would've done the same."
Rinie and Laboo exchanged glances. Even they could see the truth in Yuna's eyes — the gentle strength, the forgiveness that made her beautiful beyond measure.
Nancy looked away, tears mixing with river water. For the first time, her reflection in the surface didn't smile back. It trembled, blurred, and was gone.
That evening, as the sun melted into gold over the hills, the girls walked home together. Nancy was quiet, her steps slow, her thoughts heavy. When they reached the path where the trees thinned, she turned to Yuna.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Yuna only smiled, the same pure smile that had melted every heart since the day they met. "The river forgave you," she said softly. "And so do I."
From the riverbank, a soft breeze rose, carrying the sound of running water—a voice half laughter, half song. Some said it was only wind. Others, that it was Shokma itself, whispering its judgment.
But Yuna knew. The river had seen envy and kindness both, and it had chosen which to spare.
That night, under a silver moon, Rama held her daughter close."You shine brighter every day," she murmured."It's not me, Mother," Yuna said. "It's the river. It washed away something dark."And far away, where the water curled around stones, a single crimson bead gleamed beneath the surface—waiting, watching, remembering.