The te evening air was growing cooler, tinged with the scent of damp earth and the distant chirping of crickets as Myra and Gareth settled onto the moss-covered log. The fading light cast long, dancing shadows from the trees that lined the path, creating a hushed and somewhat intimate atmosphere. Gareth sat slightly turned towards Myra, his hands csped together, his gaze earnest and a little nervous. Myra sat with her hands folded in her p, her posture polite but holding a subtle reserve, her thoughts still drifting back to the warmth of Freya’s embrace.

  Gareth cleared his throat softly, breaking the momentary silence. “Myra,” he began, his voice sincere, “I wanted to apologize if… if I was too abrupt the st time I visited. When I told you… when I said I loved you. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or to rush things. I’ve just… I’ve cared for you for a long time, and the words just sort of… came out.” His gaze was filled with a genuine regret for any distress he might have caused her.

  Myra offered a gentle smile. “It’s alright, Gareth. I understand. You were honest, and I appreciate that.” While his words stirred a faint pang of guilt, knowing that her feelings y elsewhere, she didn’t want to prolong the awkwardness of the situation.

  Taking her soft response as an encouragement, Gareth’s expression grew more hopeful. “Myra,” he continued, his voice gaining a touch more confidence, “I do love you. And I truly believe we could have a wonderful life together. I know I’m just a simple man, but I promise you, I would work hard to provide for you and any children we might have. I would be a good husband, Myra. A good father.” He spoke with a heartfelt sincerity, painting a picture of a traditional life, a stable and loving home.

  He looked at her with earnest eyes. “I’ve always imagined us… building a life here, in the vilge. Raising a family. I can offer you security, Myra, a safe and loving home. Please, just… consider it. Consider what we could have together.” His plea hung in the air, a stark contrast to the wild, uncertain path her heart was now drawn towards. The warmth of Gareth’s simple, heartfelt offer was a familiar comfort, but it no longer held the same allure as the enigmatic and intense love she had found in the shadows.

  Myra listened to Gareth’s heartfelt words, a wave of mingled sadness and resolve washing over her. She had known Gareth for most of her life; their families were neighbors, and they had grown up pying together in the fields and woods surrounding the vilge. But the connection they shared had always felt like that of childhood companions, a comfortable familiarity that had never blossomed into romantic love for her.

  “Gareth,” she began gently, choosing her words carefully, “we have known each other for a long time, that’s true. But we were children then. Our connection was one of childhood games and shared adventures. It was innocent, Gareth.”

  She continued, her voice soft but firm. “You only started showing… these feelings again during the night festival. That was quite recent. And while I appreciate your kindness and the sincerity of your words, Gareth, my feelings… they haven’t changed in that way.” She needed to be clear, to gently but definitively steer him away from pursuing a future that she didn’t see for them.

  “You deserve someone who loves you fully, Gareth,” Myra said, her gaze filled with genuine sincerity. “Someone whose heart beats for you the way yours seems to beat for me. I… I don’t think I am that person for you.” She hoped her honesty, though potentially painful, would ultimately be kinder in the long run, allowing him to open his heart to someone who could reciprocate his feelings.

  Gareth’s hopeful expression crumbled, repced by a look of disbelief and a hint of pain. “No, Myra,” he insisted, shaking his head slightly. “You just… you haven’t given us a chance. You don’t know what we could have. I know I can make you happy. Just… just give me some time. Let me show you.” His refusal to accept her gentle rejection tightened the knot of sadness in Myra’s chest. She knew she needed to be more firm

  Myra sighed softly, her resolve hardening. She needed to be clearer, even if it meant causing him some immediate hurt. “Gareth,” she said, her voice firm but still gentle, “please understand. It’s not about giving you a chance. It’s about how I feel. And I don’t hold any affection for you. I am not interested in building a retionship with you, not in that way.”

  A fsh of hurt and anger crossed Gareth’s face. He sat up straighter, his earlier gentleness repced by a rising frustration. “But… but why not, Myra? We’re good together! Everyone says so. And you will be my wife, Myra. I know it.” There was a possessiveness in his tone that made Myra feel a sudden unease.

  “Gareth,” Myra said, her brow furrowing, “you say I will be your wife? Why do you say that? And why do you think I will love you in that way if my feelings are not there?” She needed him to understand that love couldn’t be forced or assumed, that her own heart had a say in the matter. His certainty, bordering on possessiveness, was becoming increasingly unsunsettling.

  Gareth’s jaw tightened, his initial disappointment hardening into something akin to stubborn conviction. “Because… because we belong together, Myra. We always have. Everyone in the vilge expects it. Our families…” He trailed off, then continued with a renewed intensity, “And you will love me, Myra. You just… you don’t realize it yet. I know what’s best for you. I will take care of you. You’ll see.” His words, once filled with gentle affection, now carried an unsettling air of possessiveness and an assumption of control that sent a shiver of unease down Myra’s spine. The image he painted of their future was one where her own feelings and desires seemed to hold little weight.

  Myra stared at Gareth, her unease growing with each word he spoke. His insistence that they belonged together, his assumption that her feelings would eventually align with his expectations, was deeply troubling. It was as if he saw her not as an individual with her own desires and emotions, but as a pre-determined part of his future.

  “Gareth,” she said, her voice firm and unwavering, “love doesn’t work that way. You can’t simply decide that someone will love you, or that you know what’s best for them without considering their own heart. Love is a choice, a feeling that grows organically between two people. It can’t be forced or willed into existence.”

  She looked at him, her expression a mixture of disappointment and a dawning sense of concern. “What you’re describing, Gareth, isn’t love. It’s an expectation, a belief that you are entitled to my affection. But my heart belongs to me, just as yours belongs to you. And I have to be true to what I feel, not to what someone else expects or believes is right.” Her words were clear and direct, leaving no room for misinterpretation. She hoped, despite his current conviction, that a seed of understanding might take root.

  A flicker of desperation, bordering on panic, crossed Gareth’s face as Myra’s clear rejection sank in. He reached out suddenly and grabbed her hand, his grip tightening with an unexpected force that made Myra wince. “Please, Myra, just give me a chance,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want. I’ll give you the world, just… just let me try.”

  Myra’s eyes widened in surprise and discomfort at his sudden action and the painful pressure on her hand. She tried to pull away, but his grip remained firm, almost possessive. The gentle, familiar Gareth seemed to have vanished, repced by someone driven by a desperate need that was starting to feel unsettling.

  “Gareth,” Myra said, her voice sharp with a hint of arm, “you’re hurting me. Please, let go of my hand.” The physical pain, though not severe, was jarring and amplified the unease she was already feeling. His fervent promises now felt less like decrations of love and more like a desperate attempt to control her decision.

  She tugged her hand again, more forcefully this time, her gaze fixed on his. “Gareth, I mean it. Release my hand.” Her tone left no room for argument. The shift in his demeanor, the forceful grip, had solidified her resolve. There was no future for them, and his current behavior was only confirming that.

  Gareth seemed to register the sharpness in Myra’s voice and the distress in her eyes. With a visible effort, his grip on her hand loosened, and he finally released her. A look of confused hurt washed over his face. “I… I will try harder, Myra,” he stammered, his voice a little shaky. “I’ll prove to you that I’m the one for you. You’ll see.” His words, though now softer, still held a stubborn insistence that Myra found deeply unsettling.

  Without responding, her heart heavy with disappointment and a growing sense of unease, Myra stood up from the log. She offered Gareth a brief, strained nod before turning and walking quickly towards her cabin, the image of his persistent gaze burning into her back. The peaceful joy she had felt on her journey home had been completely shattered, repced by a knot of worry and a lingering feeling of discomfort from Gareth’s unexpected intensity. The path ahead, it seemed, was not going to be as straightforward as she had hoped.