The weight of the crystal fragments in my pocket felt like a tangible anchor, a reminder of the extraordinary woven into the familiar. Yet, stepping back into my own reality felt like a jarring shift. The tension in the air hung thick as I entered the house, the scent of dinner and simmering disapproval clinging to the air.
Dinner was a battlefield of passive-aggressive comments and pointed silences. My abysmal grades, a stark contrast to the thrilling adventures I'd embarked on with Ethan, were the ammunition of choice.
"Straight Cs on your history paper, Amber?" My father, a man perpetually on the verge of an aneurysm, tossed the paper onto the table like a discarded napkin. "Professor Evans must be sorely disappointed."
I forced a smile. Professor Evans, Ethan's old history professor, or rather, my grandmother in her secret identity as a guardian of realities, was more concerned with saving the Weave than my GPA.
"Grandma... understands," I muttered, pushing my uneaten food around the plate. The truth, of course, was far more fantastical.
"Understands what?" My mother, a woman perpetually on the verge of a breakdown, chimed in. "That you have your head stuck in the clouds instead of focusing on your studies?"
The familiar sting of frustration bubbled up within me. How could I explain the realities, the monstrous flora, the trials that tested not just our knowledge but the very fabric of existence?
"I'm trying," I said, my voice tight with suppressed anger. "But maybe history isn't my thing."
"Maybe not," my father scoffed. "But a decent education is. This 'trying' better start showing some results, young lady."
The rest of the dinner passed in a tense silence, the only sound the clinking of silverware and the gnawing ache in my stomach - from both hunger and resentment.
Escaping the suffocating atmosphere of home, I made my way to the library. Alice, the ever-optimistic librarian with a touch of grey at her temples despite her seemingly youthful spirit, had been my rock throughout this entire ordeal.
The library was a place of hushed whispers and the comforting scent of old paper. Alice sat at her usual desk, a stack of books beside her. But today, a faint tremor ran through her hand as she straightened a book, a telltale sign of her ongoing battle with cancer.
"Hey, Alice," I said softly, approaching her desk. "Care for some company?"
She looked up, a tired smile gracing her lips. "Always," she said, her voice slightly raspy. "Rough day?"
I collapsed onto the chair opposite her, spilling out the details of the argument, the frustration, and the overwhelming feeling of being misunderstood. Alice listened patiently, her eyes filled with empathy that transcended time.
"Maybe you should talk to them," she suggested gently, "explain what you're going through, even if they don't understand everything."
The thought of explaining interdimensional travel and reality-altering crystals to my parents seemed ludicrous. Yet, beneath my bravado, a seed of doubt had been planted.
Bidding farewell to Alice, I stepped out into the cool night air. The city lights, usually twinkling with a cheerful indifference, seemed to mock my turmoil.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Ethan, a simple text:
Ethan: Meet me at the park? Need a break from reality (both kinds).
A smile tugged at my lips. Ethan, who went from being my Social Grace instructor to my unlikely partner in this extraordinary adventure, had also become a confidante, a friend I could trust completely. Perhaps friend wasn't the right term here.
"So, I see youve taken quite a liking for your tutor..." Alice said, smiling at me with a hint of amusement in her eyes.
---------------------------------
The park was deserted, bathed in the soft glow of the moon. Ethan sat on a swing, his head tilted back, gazing at the star-dusted sky. My heart beat frantically at the sight of him.
"Hey," I said softly, joining him on the swing beside him.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic creaking of the swings the only sound. Finally, I spilled the beans about the fight with my parents, the frustration, the feeling of being adrift.
Ethan listened intently, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. When I finished, he spoke, his voice low and calming.
"Your parents just want the best for you," he said. "Even if they don't get it."
"I know," I sighed, kicking my feet against the ground. "It's just... frustrating."
Ethan reached out, his hand gently brushing against mine. A jolt of electricity shot through me, a warmth spreading from the point of contact. It wasn't just the touch - it was a silent thank you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the shared experience that had brought us closer.
Our eyes met, a silent understanding passing between us. Professor Evans' revelation hung heavy in the air, her words echoing in our minds. In that charged moment, Ethan stared at me like I was the only person in the world that mattered. He leaned in, hesitantly at first, gauging my reaction.
Seeing no resistance, his hesitation melted away. The kiss that followed was brief, a brush of lips that spoke volumes. It wasn't a declaration of love, more like a promise whispered against my skin.
A promise to face the unknown together, a promise forged in the crucible of the extraordinary adventures we'd shared and would share.
My parents had control on every part of my life, but whatever I had with Ethan, I was going to make sure they never found out, because if they did...I would be screwed.
Ethan probably hadn't realised it, but this was the happiest I had felt in a long long time.
71Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDNQbl1VNkZ
