How do people deal with this? These moments and these pressures and the constant thoughts that just don’t go away?

Being social is hard, and sharing a piece of yourself with someone in this way is even harder.

I sit at the table, and Kellyn leans his long body down into the chair next to me. I feel myself start to panic at his nearness, but either Kellyn knows me better than I think he does, or he’s just naturally capable of giving me what I need.

He starts talking. “The little ones joined us in the fields today. They like helping with the orchards. It amuses them to no end to see how high I can hoist them in the air to reach the fruit at the top of the trees. Afterward, Tias spotted a garden snake winding through the tall grass, so we chased it. I caught it, and everyone let it wrap around their fingers for a bit until we released it back to the wild. Then Wardra found a patch of flowers, and she made us all crowns.”

When I finally look at him, I see he has a crown of flowers in his hair.

In his other hand, he brandishes a yellow blossom on a long stem and sets it beside me.

His talking puts me to rest. It gives my mind something to process without any pressure, and my heart warms at the sight of the flower.

“I arrived home early enough to help with dinner,” I say. “Your mom taught me how to make bread. Turns out these hands are good for more than just beating metal. I hadn’t thought dough could be so tiring.”

Kellyn reaches under the table and takes my hand in his as I talk.

And everything is fine again.

Soon, I find myself lighting up whenever I see Kellyn, even looking forward to it, instead of dreading it. My mind relaxes, and I revel in Kellyn’s presence. I love smelling the flowers he brings me. I love it when he takes my hand and even become brave enough to take his.

I love touching him when we kiss. Curling my fingers over his arm, running the flat of my hand over his chest, exploring the plane of his throat with my lips.

I’m happy.

And everything might just be okay. Temra is safe. I feel safe for once. Kellyn is perfect. Petrik is a favorite among the children, and he spends every second he can with them.

And then the day comes when the mold is finally ready. The last of the clay dries, and I invite Petrik, Temra, and Kellyn to join me at the forge.

“I don’t know if this will work,” I warn, “but I thought you all would want to be here for this part.”

Petrik scrounged up more parchment from somewhere in the village, and he’s been working to rewrite all the progress he lost on his book. He has it with him now, and he scribbles like mad from his spot on the ground, where he has a clear view of the hole. Temra is by his side, her arm on his shoulder as she reads what he writes.