Chapter 20 – The Storm Before the Stillness

The night before she left, it stormed.

Braemar was wrapped in rain, the streets glistening under the glow of lantern light. The wind howled through the village, rattling windowpanes and tugging at doors.

Eleanor stood outside, letting the rain soak through her clothes, letting the cold bite into her skin.

She wanted to remember this.

She wanted it to hurt, just a little, so she wouldn't forget.

"Eleanor."

She turned.

Callum was standing in the doorway of the inn, arms crossed, hair damp from the rain. His expression was unreadable.

"You shouldn't be out here."

She shrugged. "Neither should you."

Callum stepped forward. "Eleanor, if you go—"

She exhaled sharply. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't make this harder."

Callum's hands curled into fists at his sides. "I'm not making it anything. You're the one walking away."

Eleanor swallowed against the lump in her throat. "I don't have a choice."

"Bullshit."

She flinched. Callum rarely raised his voice.

He took a breath, running a hand down his face. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "You always have a choice, Eleanor."

And that was the worst part.

Because he was right.

She could stay.

But the idea of staying—of choosing something real, something permanent—terrified her more than leaving ever could.

She had spent her whole life learning how to run.

She didn't know how to stop.

So she just looked at him, memorizing the way his rain-drenched hair clung to his forehead, the way his eyes burned with something too raw to name.

And then she turned, walked back inside, and didn't look back.