The word scraped on its way out. He turned at once.
"No."
I looked at him. "I won't have that from you, April."
The softness in his voice made the refusal firmer rather than gentler.
''You do not owe anyone an apology for being overwhelmed, and you do not owe anyone an apology for leaving a room where you did not feel comfortable. I saw your face before you left. You were not rude, April. You could never be. You are one of the purest souls I know. You were simply going through something, and that was clear to anyone willing to see it.''
Something in my chest tightened sharply. He rested his good hand on the wood between us.
"I don't really know your whole story, April, but I know enough to see you've been carrying something heavy. We all are, in different ways. I may not understand it yet, but I want to try."
I kept my eyes lowered because meeting kindness directly was still difficult.
"My parents adored you within thirty seconds, by the way," he continued. "My mother was absolutely convinced you looked like someone out of an old warrior tale, strong and beautiful, while you were still in the hallway."
He smiled, then grew quieter. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the small notebook I sometimes carried. My hands shook slightly as I tore out a page, then another when I realized one would not be enough.
Bramwell said nothing. He only waited.
I wrote for a long time while the night moved around us. I wrote about the silence that had become permanent after childhood taught me speech could be dangerous or useless. I wrote about doors closed between me and the world, about learning to disappear in rooms where I was unwanted. I wrote about how my voice just disappears.
I wrote about Ellis too. I did not give Bramwell the details of what happened, only that Ellis had hurt me in a way I had never fully been able to move past. I wrote that he had once been good to me, kinder than I knew how to receive, until he wasn't. I wrote about how he has been trying to make me forgive him for months now, and how I can't. I wrote that he has been learningabout my condition and trying to be there for me, but I am still trapped in that moment, repeating it like a loop.
When I finished, my wrist ached. I folded the pages and handed them to him. He took them carefully. I stood before he could begin reading.
"April."
I shook my head once, unable to stay and watch understanding happen in real time. Then I turned and walked home through the trees with my pulse loud in my ears.
Nearly an hour later, a knock sounded at my door. I rose from the sofa and went to open it.
"You left before I could give you something."
Bramwell reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stone. It was smooth in places, but not entirely. It caught the light faintly when he turned it in his hand.
''I found this a while ago," he said. "It's malachite. A green copper mineral that forms under pressure and change. The colour is the same shade as your eyes. It's the kind of stone that only exists because things were intense enough to transform it. I suppose I kept it because it reminded me that even pressure and disturbance don't always destroy what they touch.''
He placed it gently into my palm. My fingers closed around it without meaning to. Bramwell tilted his head slightly, a faint tired smile forming.
"I read your letter," he said, a little more carefully than usual, "and first of all, thank you for trusting me with it. I'm genuinely humbled and, I suppose, a bit honored too."
He shifted his weight, then let out a small breath like he was trying to stay brave about what came next.
"It only confirmed something I've been trying very hard to ignore," he added.
I looked at him, confused despite myself. He met my eyes properly then, a little softer now.
"I am fully aware I have competition," he said simply. "Ellis, your history with him, your memories, all the things I wasn't there for."
Then his mouth curved faintly, almost shy despite himself.
"But I am here anyway," he said, "and I am officially admitting that I intend to woo you, Miss April, properly, in the way someone like you deserves to be treated."
A beat passed.
"So go to sleep now," he said gently. "You've had an emotionally charged day. I'll see you soon, my quiet guardian of forests, my storm-walked wanderer. Rest properly."
