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.

them, I'll go pick some for you," she said, playing

his eyes lit up instantly, hope flashing

"What?" he said, surprised.

disbelief-seriously? In this frozen

"Mr. Henderson..."

about to gloss it over, but he suddenly dropped her

it," he

even the corners of his eyes seemed misty, his

slow breath, pushed open the car door, and said, "I'll look. But if I can't find

smile as he hummed a soft reply. The snow was falling fast now, blanketing

step Grace took crunched softly

the woods, but after a few paces,

headed back to the car

His face was still flushed with the fever,

it-wander a bit

at him

of winter, he looked like some feral, red-draped

to speak; somehow, he made her want

thought she would ever feel pity for him. And yet,

for a response, she marched into

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

magnolias. They burned bright against the ghostly white of

in disbelief before stepping

she brushed the delicate bloom, a rush of fragmented

pitch-black cave, two children clung

around, then moved toward a direction that

about 65 feet, she spotted a hollow in the