Myra stepped inside the familiar warmth of the cottage, her grandmother immediately turning from the hearth, a smile of welcome on her face. “Myra, dear! Gareth was looking for you earlier. He waited here for a bit, but then said he’d try to catch you on your way back.” Her grandmother’s tone was casual, but her eyes held a subtle curiosity.

  “Yes, Grandma,” Myra replied, her voice a little ft as she shrugged off her shawl. “I met him on the road.” She avoided her grandmother’s direct gaze, moving to set her shawl on the familiar hook by the door.

  Her grandmother, however, was perceptive and had known Myra her entire life. She noticed the subtle droop of Myra’s shoulders, the ck of the radiant smile she had worn upon leaving that morning, and the slight tension in her movements. Her smile faded, repced by a look of concern. “Are you alright, child? You look… upset. Did something happen with Gareth?” Her gentle inquiry held a depth of care, and Myra knew she couldn’t entirely hide her feelings.

  Myra sighed softly, finally meeting her grandmother’s concerned gaze. “It was just… a bit awkward, Grandma,” she admitted, choosing her words carefully. “Gareth… he told me again that he has feelings for me. I tried to expin that I don’t feel the same way, but he… he seemed to have a hard time accepting it.” She summarized the encounter briefly, omitting the more intense and unsettling aspects of Gareth’s persistence. She didn’t want to cause her grandmother unnecessary worry, especially not when her own thoughts were still so consumed by Freya.

  Myra’s grandmother listened attentively, her brow furrowing with a mixture of sympathy and perhaps a touch of concern for Gareth as well, whom she had known since he was a child. “Oh, Myra, dear,” she said softly, reaching out to take Myra’s hand. “That can be a difficult situation. Gareth is a good d, with a kind heart. It’s never easy when feelings aren’t… reciprocated.”

  “Myra,” her grandmother continued gently, her touch still comforting, “Gareth cares for you deeply. Perhaps… perhaps it might be worth giving his affections a genuine chance. Sometimes, the feelings we expect don’t blossom immediately, but grow with time and understanding. He is a good man, Myra, and would undoubtedly cherish you.”

  Her grandmother’s gaze softened further, a knowing look in her eyes. “But of course, my dear, your heart is your own. If, after giving it honest consideration, you find your feelings lie elsewhere, then that is your truth. And you must know that there are other fine young men in the vilge who hold you in high regard. Your happiness is what matters most to me, Myra. I simply want you to consider all possibilities.”

  Myra squeezed her grandmother’s hand gently. “He was just… very insistent, Grandma,” she said, a slight weariness in her voice. “I tried to be clear, but he seemed determined to… to change my mind. It just left me feeling a little… uncomfortable.” She didn’t want to eborate on the possessive undertones she had sensed, not yet. She just wanted to convey that the encounter hadn’t been pleasant and had left her feeling unsettled.

  Her grandmother nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I understand, dear. Sometimes, when people have their hearts set on something, it can be hard for them to see things clearly. Just remember, Myra, you don’t owe anyone your affection. Your heart is yours to give freely, to whomever you choose.” Her words were a quiet reassurance, a gentle validation of Myra’s feelings and her right to make her own choices, without pressure or guilt.

  “Thank you, Grandma,” Myra said softly, a genuine warmth spreading through her at her grandmother’s understanding and unwavering support. It was comforting to have someone in her life who trusted her judgment and respected her feelings, especially as she navigated the complexities of her newfound love and the lingering awkwardness of her interactions with Gareth. Her grandmother’s simple words were a balm to her slightly troubled spirit.

  “Myra, dear,” her grandmother said, her tone shifting to something more practical, “would you mind helping me with some of the chores around the cottage tomorrow? There’s the garden that needs tending, and I was hoping to get some baking done.” Her request was a gentle invitation to return to the familiar rhythm of their daily life, a way to perhaps ease Myra’s mind and spend some quality time together.

  The next morning, Myra diligently assisted her grandmother with the household chores. They worked side-by-side in the garden, weeding and tending to the vegetables, the familiar rhythm of their tasks a comforting normalcy. Later, the warm aroma of freshly baked bread filled the cottage as they kneaded dough and shared stories, a peaceful routine that grounded Myra after the emotional turmoil of the previous evening.

  However, as the sun began its slow descent in the sky, a familiar pang of longing tugged at Myra’s heart. The realization dawned that the day was quickly slipping away, and she wouldn’t have the opportunity to see Freya. A wave of disappointment washed over her. She found herself wondering how Freya was doing, if she was still troubled by the encounter with Amelia, or if the sadness Myra had witnessed the day before still lingered in her crimson eyes.

  A deep yearning to be with Freya, to hear her voice, to feel the gentle reassurance of her presence, filled Myra. The brief time they had spent together, the tentative steps they had taken towards acknowledging their feelings, had created a profound connection that Myra now craved on a daily basis. The thought of another day passing without seeing her felt like a small but significant loss.

  Yet, a sense of caution tempered her longing. She was acutely aware of her grandmother’s watchful gaze and the potential for raising suspicion if she suddenly started disappearing every evening. Maintaining the bance between her old life and this new, extraordinary love was proving to be a delicate and challenging act. The fear of her grandmother discovering the truth, and the potential consequences that could entail, weighed heavily on her mind.

  Myra found herself caught between her intense desire to be with Freya and the practical need to maintain a sembnce of normalcy in her life. She yearned for a way to spend more time with the woman who had captured her heart, to nurture their growing retionship, without arousing suspicion and risking the safety of their secret. The question of how to navigate this delicate bance, how to weave Freya into the fabric of her life without unraveling everything, occupied her thoughts as the evening shadows deepened.