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.

you want to see them, I'll go

lit up instantly, hope flashing through the

"What?" he said, surprised.

disbelief-seriously?

"Mr. Henderson..."

to gloss it over, but he suddenly dropped her hand, staring bleakly out the

find it," he

even the corners of his eyes seemed

car door, and said, "I'll look. But if I can't find any in ten minutes, I'm coming

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

step Grace took

the woods, but after a few paces,

to the car and tapped lightly on

down. His face was still flushed with the fever, and his hair

to fake it-wander a bit and grab something

at

he looked like some feral, red-draped

speak; somehow, he made her want to do

thought she would ever feel pity for him.

response,

ten minutes of wading through the. snow there it was-a flash of crimson nestled against the ruins of a

were magnolias. They burned bright against the ghostly white of

disbelief before stepping

instant she brushed the delicate bloom, a rush of

pitch-black cave, two children clung

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

65 feet, she spotted