The morning after Lily's return to Sam was unusually still. Not a bird in the sky, not a leaf rustling in the wind. It was as though the entire village of Evermore held its breath.
For a while, everything felt right.
Lily helped her mother grind herbs in the kitchen while humming softly under her breath, a tune that had once made her siblings dance around the fire in laughter. Her younger sister, Mirah, watched her with wide eyes curious, confused, but oddly content.
Sam, on the other hand, had a rare lightness in his steps. He worked at the docks with quiet strength, but there was a peace in his face that his fellow fishermen hadn't seen in years. He didn't speak much about what had changed, but they saw it in the way his eyes always drifted toward the edge of the hill, where Lily sometimes stood, watching the waves.
But peace never lasts long in a place where everyone knows your name.
By the third day, the whispers began.
"She turned down the prince, can you imagine?"
"Just for a poor fisherman?"
"What was she thinking?"
"I heard he put a spell on her. That boy was always strange."
Lily could feel it in the way people looked at her curious, judgmental, and sometimes even cold. At the market, the baker's wife hesitated before handing her bread. At the well, the older women who used to smile at her now kept their eyes low and voices loud enough to sting.
"She had a chance to lift her family out of poverty."
"And she chose a man who smells of fish."
"She's cursed them all."
Lily tried to ignore it, but the words followed her everywhere like a shadow.
It hurt more than she wanted to admit.
Sam noticed the change too. At first, he dismissed it. Let them talk, he thought. They've always talked. But by the end of the week, even he could not deny that something had shifted.
One afternoon, he approached Lily near the stream where they'd first met as children. She was sitting on a rock, her shawl wrapped tight around her shoulders, gaze distant.
"I heard what they've been saying," he said.
She didn't look at him. "Everyone has."
He lowered himself beside her. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," she whispered. "You didn't ask me to choose you."
"But I hoped you would," he replied softly. "And I still do."
She turned to him then, her eyes filled with emotion. "I don't regret it. I just didn't think it would be this hard."
Sam looked out at the stream. "People fear what they don't understand. They think wealth solves everything. But some things… some things only love can carry."
"I just wish they knew me better."
"They will," he said firmly. "Give them time. Truth always shows itself."
But time was not always kind.
That night, someone left a dead fish on Lily's doorstep.
Her father found it before sunrise and buried it quickly, but the message was clear. Someone blamed her. Someone wanted her to feel ashamed of her choice.
She didn't cry.
Not in front of them.
But that evening, as the sky darkened and the stars began to rise, Lily walked alone to the cliffs. The place where Sam always stood. Where he said he saw the world clearly.
She didn't expect him to be there but he was.
Waiting.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked gently.
She shook her head. "You?"
He gave a half-smile. "Didn't want to."
She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around herself. "Sometimes I think I was selfish."
He looked at her sharply. "You're the most selfless person I know."
"I knew this would bring trouble. I just hoped… hoped love would be enough to shield us."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he reached for her hand and said, "Love isn't a shield, Lily. It's a flame. Sometimes it burns. But it also lights the way."
She leaned against his shoulder, her heart aching and comforted at once. Below them, the waves roared against the rocks. Unforgiving. Relentless. Beautiful.
Just like life.
By the end of the week, the prince returned.
He did not ride in with trumpets or banners this time. He came alone, cloaked and silent, his face unreadable. He spoke to no one, went straight to the elder's house, and requested a private audience.
Whispers flew again, faster than before.
He had come for answers. Or perhaps revenge.
No one knew.
But everyone watched.
Lily's father received a summons the next day.
"He wants to speak to me," he told the family, voice low and careful.
Lily froze. "What will you say?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But whatever I say, I will not dishonor you."
She placed a trembling hand on his arm. "I'm sorry I put you through this."
"You followed your heart," he said. "If that's a crime, then may we all be guilty."
The fire beneath the ashes had started to glow.
Lily didn't know what the prince would do next. She didn't know if the village's anger would fade or erupt. But as she sat that night with Sam near the flickering light of their makeshift fire, she whispered the words she'd been holding back:
"No matter what happens… don't let go."
He took her hand and held it tight.
"Never."...