Back in the familiar, cozy warmth of her grandmother’s cottage, the aroma of chamomile tea lingering in the air, Myra found herself facing a gentle but probing question. Her grandmother, seated in her rocking chair by the crackling hearth, her eyes sharp and knowing despite her recent illness, looked at Myra with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

  “My dear,” her grandmother said, her voice still a little frail but regaining its familiar warmth, “you’ve been coming back quite te these past few days. Everything alright, love? You’re not overdoing things, are you?” Her gaze held a hint of worry, a familiar protectiveness for her granddaughter’s well-being.

  Myra offered a light smile, trying to project an air of casual normalcy as she settled onto a stool near the fire. “Oh, Grandma, yes, everything’s fine,” she reassured her, picking up a stray knitting needle from the table. “I’ve just been… helping out at the antique shop a bit. You know how quiet it can be, and there’s a… a woman who’s been taking care of things there.”

  She busied herself with the knitting needle, pretending to examine it intently, hoping her grandmother wouldn’t notice the slight flush that might be creeping up her neck. “She’s… got a lot of interesting things in there,” Myra continued, keeping her tone light and conversational, “so I’ve been spending some time looking around. Just passing the time, really.” She hoped her expnation sounded pusible, a simple enough reason for her te returns that wouldn’t trigger any further, more probing questions. The truth, with its tangled web of ancient vampires and burgeoning feelings, felt far too complicated and unbelievable to expin just yet.

  Her grandmother’s brow furrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion flickering in her eyes. Perhaps we should pay a visit sometime soon, dear. I’ve always had a fondness for old things, and it would be nice to see. And it would be a good opportunity for me to stretch my legs a bit, now that I’m feeling stronger.”

  Myra’s heart sank a little. Her carefully constructed expnation, meant to ease her grandmother’s worries and provide a harmless reason for her absences, had inadvertently created a new complication. The thought of her grandmother meeting Freya, the ancient vampire who now held such a significant and confusing pce in Myra’s heart, sent a wave of anxiety washing over her. How could she possibly expin Freya? A simple visit to the antique shop now felt fraught with potential disaster, threatening to expose the secret she was so desperately trying to protect, not only for her own sake but for Freya’s as well.

  Her grandmother’s eyes twinkled knowingly, a subtle shift in her expression suggesting she hadn’t missed Myra’s slight discomfort at the mention of the antique shop. She settled back in her rocking chair, a faint smile pying on her lips.

  “Now then, dear,” she said, her tone becoming a touch more pyful, “what about that nice young d from the festival? The one who kept offering to fetch you lemonade and seemed quite smitten? He had such a kind face. Did you happen to see him again while you were out and about? He seemed like a genuinely good sort. You know, Myra, it warms my heart to see you meeting new people and enjoying yourself.”

  “Oh, Gareth,” Myra said, a faint smile gracing her lips as she recalled his earnest attempts to make her comfortable at the festival. “Yes, he… he seems like a really nice guy, Grandma. Very helpful and polite.” She tried to keep her tone neutral, carefully avoiding any hint of undue enthusiasm.

  Her grandmother’s gaze sharpened slightly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nice is all well and good, dear,” she said gently, “but do you like him? Did you feel a… connection, perhaps? A little spark?”

  Inside her mind, however, a different name echoed: Freya. The encounters at the antique shop, the intense emotions that had surfaced, the undeniable connection that had formed – those memories overshadowed any fleeting impression Gareth had made. Freya’s words, her touch, the shared vulnerability… they had pnted a seed in Myra’s heart, a seed that was now beginning to sprout in unexpected and perhaps forbidden ways.

  A wave of confusion and a touch of panic washed over Myra. How could she possibly expin to her grandmother that the person occupying her thoughts wasn’t a kind young man from the vilge, but an ancient vampire? And how could she even begin to articute the confusing stirrings in her heart, a nascent attraction to another woman, especially after the tumultuous and otherworldly experience with Freya? The chasm between her grandmother’s expectations and her own feelings felt vast and impossible to bridge with simple words.

  Myra’s smile faltered slightly. She busied herself with the imaginary task of straightening a wrinkle on her skirt, avoiding her grandmother’s direct gaze. “He was… pleasant to talk to, Grandma,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “We just… chatted a bit at the festival. Nothing more than that.”

  She paused, searching for the right words, the honest words that felt impossible to utter. “I’ve been… preoccupied tely, with everything,” she added, hoping to deflect further probing. “With your health, and… and just things.” She couldn’t bring herself to voice the truth, the complicated swirl of emotions that Freya had stirred within her. The idea of admitting an attraction to another woman, especially in the context of her grandmother’s traditional views and her own recent, fantastical experiences, felt like a monumental leap she wasn’t yet ready to take. So, she offered a vague and somewhat evasive answer, hoping her grandmother wouldn’t press the matter further.

  A warm smile spread across her grandmother’s face, her eyes twinkling with a familiar matchmaking glint. “Well then, dear,” she said, cpping her hands gently together, “it sounds like the perfect opportunity to extend some neighborly kindness. Gareth’s mother, Isa, has been an absolute angel, bless her heart, bringing over those lovely broths and checking in on me when you were away. It would be a lovely gesture to invite them both over for a meal. A small token of our appreciation, you see.”

  Her grandmother continued, her tone becoming a tad more pointed, though still affectionate. “And it would be a nice chance for you to get to know Gareth a little better, wouldn’t it? A pleasant evening of good food and good company. It’s important to build connections in the vilge, dear. You never know where friendship – or something more – might blossom.” She winked pyfully, leaving no doubt about her intentions.

  Myra’s heart sank a little at her grandmother’s suggestion. While she deeply appreciated Isa’s kindness and felt a genuine obligation to reciprocate, the thought of spending an evening with Gareth, under her grandmother’s watchful and hopeful gaze, filled her with a sense of unease. Her mind was still so consumed by Freya, her emotions a tangled mess of newfound feelings and lingering fear. The prospect of fostering a connection with Gareth felt not only unappealing but also disingenuous.

  However, Myra knew her grandmother’s heart was in the right pce, and she couldn’t deny the genuine gratitude they both owed Isa. To refuse outright would seem ungracious and would likely raise her grandmother’s suspicions even further. She sighed inwardly, acknowledging the delicate situation. She needed to find a way to honor Isa’s kindness without leading Gareth or her grandmother to believe there was a romantic interest that simply wasn’t there.

  “Yes, Grandma, you’re right,” Myra said, forcing a smile. “It would be lovely to thank Isa properly. And Gareth too, for being so kind at the festival. We can definitely invite them over for supper soon.” She hoped she sounded enthusiastic enough to appease her grandmother while simultaneously buying herself some time to figure out how to navigate the situation without causing hurt or further misunderstanding.