Chapter 15: The Truth Will Set You Free
Beyond the frosted glass, I can just make out the blurred outline of my bedroom. Rolo's form is a dark silhouette against the lighter backdrop of the rumpled sheets, her chest rising and falling in the slow, steady rhythm of deep sleep. The sight of her there, in my bed, sends a flutter through my chest, a mixture of affection and lingering confusion from the night before.
I close my eyes, tilting my face up into the spray. The water drums against my skin, a soothing percussion that drowns out the world beyond this steamy sanctuary. As I stand there, letting the warmth seep into my very bones, my mind wanders back to the events of last night.
The memory of Rolo's sudden, intense climax flashes through my mind, followed quickly by the abrupt end to our lovemaking. I can still feel the phantom touch of her body against mine, the way she trembled and shook before collapsing into sleep. It was so different from our first encounter, so unexpected.
'It's only one time,' I think to myself, the words echoing in my mind like a mantra. 'Maybe she was just so excited she was a little premature? It's not a big deal.'
But even as I try to reassure myself, a nagging doubt lingers. The stark difference between the confident, selfless lover who had visited me that first night and the eager but inexperienced Rolo of last night is jarring. It's as if I'm dealing with two different people.
As I shower up an idea begins to form in my mind. The button from our first encounter, the one I had found after Rolo's midnight visit. Perhaps it holds the key to unlocking the passionate, self-assured Rolo I had first met.
I turn off the shower, the sudden silence filling the bathroom as the last droplets of water trickle down the drain. Stepping out onto the plush bath mat, I reach for a towel. I dry myself quickly.
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I pause for a moment, my hand on the doorknob. Through the glass, I can see Rolo stirring, her silhouette shifting against the lighter backdrop of the rumpled sheets. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step into the bedroom.
The cool air of the room hits my damp skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. The room is filled with the soft sounds of Rolo's breathing and the distant chirping of birds outside.
I make my way across the room. In the corner stands an imposing safe, its burnished steel surface gleaming in the morning light. My fingers dance across the intricate lock mechanism, inputting the complex combination with practiced ease.
0451
With a soft click, the safe door swings open, revealing its contents. The interior is a treasure trove of glittering wealth and mysterious oddities. Stacks of gold coins catch the light. Precious gems in every color of the rainbow nestle in velvet-lined boxes.
Among these riches, a small silver object catches my eye. The button, with its crescent moon nestled within a triangle. I reach in and pluck it from its resting place.
As I turn back towards the bed, I see Rolo sitting up, the sheets pooled around her waist. Her raven hair is tousled from sleep. Her crimson eyes, still heavy-lidded with drowsiness, widen as they take in my partially clothed state.
A deep blush spreads across Rolo's cheeks, coloring her pale skin a delicate shade of pink. Her gaze travels down my exposed chest, lingering on the droplets of water still clinging to my skin. She quickly averts her eyes, her fingers twisting nervously in the sheets.
"Hey, it's okay. You've already seen me naked." I say softly, moving towards the bed. The mattress dips slightly as I sit down next to her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body.
I hold out the silver button. "I wanted to give this back to you," I say softly, placing it in Rolo's palm.
Rolo's crimson eyes focus as she examines the button, turning it over in her hands. Her brow furrows in confusion, creating little creases between her eyebrows.
"What's this?" she asks. There's genuine puzzlement in her tone, her crimson eyes meeting mine with an innocence that catches me off guard.
For a moment, I'm struck speechless. The button, this tangible piece of evidence from our first encounter, suddenly feels foreign in the face of Rolo's confusion. "It's... it's your button," I stammer, feeling a bit lost. "From the first time we met."
Rolo shakes her head, her raven hair swaying with the movement. Without a word, she leans over the side of the bed, the sheets slipping down to reveal the smooth expanse of her back. I watch, transfixed, as she retrieves her discarded shirt from the floor.
With a flourish, Rolo holds up the garment, presenting it to me like a piece of evidence in a courtroom drama. Her slender fingers trace over the buttons adorning the front of the shirt. Each one bears the image of a horse's head in profile.
"This is my family's crest," Rolo explains, her voice soft but firm. "All my clothes have these buttons."
I feel as if the ground has suddenly shifted beneath me. The certainty I had felt about our first encounter, about the passionate lover who had visited me in the night, begins to crumble. A sense of disorientation washes over me, leaving me feeling adrift in a sea of confusion.
"This button... isn't yours?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The words feel strange on my tongue as if I'm speaking a foreign language.
Rolo shakes her head once more, her crimson eyes filled with a mixture of concern and confusion. "No," she says gently, "it's not mine."
I feel the blood drain from my face, a cold wave of realization washing over me. The room seems to spin slightly, the ornate furnishings blurring at the edges of my vision. My mind reels, desperately trying to process this new information. Everything I thought I knew about my relationship with Rolo, every assumption I'd made about our connection, suddenly feels like a house of cards collapsing in slow motion.
The button, once a cherished token of our first encounter, now feels heavy in my hand, its silver surface cold against my palm. The crescent moon and triangle design that had seemed so significant now mocks me with its mystery. Who did it belong to? What did it mean? The questions swirl in my mind like leaves caught in a whirlwind.
Rolo's gentle touch on my arm brings me back to the present. Her crimson eyes, so warm and full of concern, search my face.
"Are you alright, Elwin?" she asks, her voice soft and tinged with worry. The genuine care in her tone makes my heart ache, a bittersweet reminder of the connection we've built, even if it was based on a misunderstanding.
I swallow hard, forcing a weak smile onto my face. "Yeah," I manage to croak out, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. "I'm just feeling a bit tired."
Rolo's brow furrows slightly, creating a small crease between her eyebrows. She opens her mouth as if to say more, but her gaze catches on something over my shoulder. I follow her line of sight to the ornate grandfather clock standing sentinel in the corner of the room.
As we both stare at the clock, its hands seeming to move with agonizing slowness, Rolo's eyes suddenly widen in alarm.
"Crap," she exclaims, her voice tinged with panic. "I have to get going to class!"
In a flurry of movement that reminds me of her warrior training, Rolo leaps from the bed. She moves with a grace that belies her urgency, snatching up her scattered clothing from where it lies strewn across the floor. I watch, still feeling somewhat dazed, as she quickly dresses herself.
Rolo finishes dressing in a flash. Her uniform, now neatly in place, transforms her from the vulnerable, sleep-tousled woman of moments ago into a proud warrior princess.
Rolo turns to me, her crimson eyes softening as they meet mine. In two quick strides, she crosses the distance between us. Her hand cups my cheek.
Without warning, Rolo leans in and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is quick. I can taste the lingering sweetness of last night's wine on her lips.
"I'll see you later," she says, her voice happy and slightly breathless.
Before I can respond, Rolo is gone. The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone in the suddenly too-quiet room.
*****
The Winter Cafe bustles with life, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of my morning. The air is thick with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries, mingling with the crisp scent of autumn that drifts in every time the door opens.
I sit across from Saria at our small table. My lunchbox sits before me, unopened practically drooling spaghetti. The thought of eating turns my stomach, the events of the morning still churning in my mind like a turbulent sea.
"Did you ask me to come here because you want help with history?" Saria asks, her voice cutting through the ambient chatter of the cafe. Her slender fingers wrap around her teacup, the steam rising in lazy spirals between us.
I blink, momentarily thrown by her question. "What? No?" I reply, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears.
Saria's brow furrows slightly, creating a small crease between her eyebrows. She leans forward, her emerald eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes me want to squirm in my seat.
"Elwin," she says softly, her voice barely audible over the clinking of cutlery and murmur of conversation around us, "you look troubled. Is everything alright?"
"Do you remember last time we were here together?" I ask, my voice low and hesitant. "You helped me track down my mystery woman with black hair and red eyes."
Saria nods, her emerald eyes sparkling with recognition. "Yes, Rolo Horseheart," she says, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. The memory seems to bring her joy, a stark contrast to the turmoil roiling within me.
I lean forward, my elbows resting on the table. "Well," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, "apparently, my mystery woman wasn't her after all."
Saria's eyes widen, her delicate eyebrows arching in surprise.
"And now," I continue, running a hand through my hair in frustration, "I don't know what to do."
Saria sets her cup down. "You're sure?" she asks, her voice filled with concern and a hint of disbelief.
I nod. "Yeah, I'm positive."
"But... you're dating Rolo, aren't you?"
I nod, feeling a weight settle in my chest. "Yeah. We just slept together last night, but I found out this morning it wasn't her."
Saria gasps, the sound sharp and sudden in the cozy atmosphere of the cafe. Her hand flies to her mouth, her emerald eyes wide with shock.
"Uhhh...are you okay? Did she hurt you?" she trails off, clearly at a loss for words.
I lean back in my chair, the wood creaking softly under my weight. "Don't get hung up on the sex," I say, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm not mad we slept together."
Saria's cheeks flush a delicate shade of pink. "Ohh," she breathes, the word barely audible over the ambient noise of the cafe.
"I'm sad I projected who I thought she was onto her," I admit, my voice cracking slightly on the last word.
"Rolo," Saria begins, her voice soft and filled with genuine curiosity, "why did you even fall for this mystery girl?"
"She broke into my room," I begin, my voice low and intense, "and forced herself on me."
Saria's eyes widen in panic, her emerald irises seeming to pulse with alarm. The teacup in her hands trembles, causing ripples to form on the surface of her tea. Her lips part, ready to cry out in shock and dismay.
"Relax," I say quickly, holding up a hand to forestall her reaction. "The way this woman handled me was with reverence. She was gentle and loving."
Saria's brow furrows again, confusion replacing the panic in her eyes.
"I've always desired a woman to want me the way she did," I continue, my voice taking on a dreamlike quality as I recall the encounter. "It wasn't rape. I was a very willing participant."
"She made me feel seen," I say softly, my eyes meeting Saria's. "And safe."
"But then," Saria begins, her voice tinged with skepticism, "why the need to hide her identity?"
"I don't know," I admit. "What do you think I should do about Rolo?"
Saria takes a deep breath, her emerald eyes softening with compassion. She reaches across the table, her slender fingers gently brushing against my hand. The touch is warm and comforting, grounding me in the moment.
"You need to think about if you want to stay with her despite having confused your feelings," Saria says, her voice gentle yet firm. "Do you still want to be with her if she's not who you thought she was?"
I frown, my brow furrowing as I consider her words. The bustling sounds of the cafe fade into the background, leaving only the soft ticking of the ornate clock on the wall to mark the passage of time.
"I don't know," I finally admit, the words feeling hollow and inadequate. "She's so nice. I'd hate to hurt her."
"Not wanting to hurt someone isn't a reason to stay with them. Just take some to think it over."