Regret Came Too Late

Outside, the snow kept falling. In the distance, the landscape was nothing but rubble, and beyond that, an endless stretch of bleak gray sky.

Ethan's fingers stayed locked with hers; the heat of his skin was a smoldering presence she couldn't ignore.

Grace didn't have it in her to be cruel-not when he asked so quietly to just be allowed this.

The minutes dragged painfully, and his fever only worsened.

Eventually, she couldn't sit still any longer. She reached for the bottle of water, ready to coax him into drinking again.

His eyes fluttered open-glazed, foggy, as if he wasn't sure where he was.

"Mr. Bennett's gone, Mr. Henderson. Let's head back first. Even if there's no medicine, lying down will be better than staying here," she reasoned.

Instead of responding, Ethan slowly dragged his tie, his movements sluggish from the fever.

Grace quickly pressed her hand against his chest to stop him and re-fastened the tie.

Normally, he was all sharp lines and strict precision, never leaving a button undone.

Grace lowered her eyes, fingers deftly tying the knot. She decided she wouldn't wait for Tim anymore-she would get Ethan back herself.

Just then, Ethan's scalding hand closed over hers.

"We're not going back," he rasped, his voice wrecked by the fever. "There are magnolias nearby... did you know?"

Grace had no clue where they were, only realizing more and more that he was completely out of it.

magnolias. If you want to see them, I'll

up instantly, hope flashing through

"What?" he said, surprised.

blinked in disbelief-seriously? In this frozen

"Mr. Henderson..."

but he suddenly dropped

find it," he

at his side profile-his damp hair clung to his forehead; even the corners of

in a slow breath, pushed open the car door, and said, "I'll look. But if I can't find any in ten minutes, I'm coming

half-closed, he gave a faint, weary smile as he hummed a soft reply. The snow was falling fast now,

step Grace took

walked toward the woods, but after a

headed back to the car and tapped

flushed with the fever, and his hair whipped around from the

had planned to fake it-wander a bit and grab something random

one look at him

heart of winter, he looked like some feral, red-draped spirit-fragile, powerful, and

even have to speak; somehow, he made her

ever feel pity for him. And yet, here

waiting for a response, she marched

things that didn't exist. However, after ten minutes of wading through the. snow there it was-a flash of crimson nestled against the

They burned bright against the ghostly white of the world, shockingly

disbelief before stepping

hand reached out. The instant she brushed the delicate bloom, a rush

the pitch-black cave, two children

jolted with tremor. She instinctively glanced around, then moved toward a direction

she spotted a