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.

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

eyes lit up instantly, hope flashing through the

"What?" he said, surprised.

blinked in disbelief-seriously? In this

"Mr. Henderson..."

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

find it," he

profile-his damp hair clung to his forehead; even the corners of his eyes seemed misty, his cheeks flushed a

look. But if I can't find any in

smile as he hummed a soft

step Grace took crunched

walked toward the woods, but after a few

to the car

slowly rolled it down. His face was still flushed with the fever, and

fake it-wander a bit

at

the heart of winter, he looked like some

even have to speak; somehow, he made

pity for him. And yet, here

waiting for a response, she marched into

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

They burned bright against the ghostly

blinked in disbelief before

delicate bloom, a

cave, two children clung to each

tremor. She instinctively glanced around, then

feet, she spotted a hollow