Taming the Storm (Edited Version)

Chapter 27 Part 2: The Truth Among the Lies

Elise Navarro. Loud. Quick. Fearless in the way a lit match was fearless.

People always thought she was unshakable. Sharp-tongued, impulsive, untouchable. She wore that chaos like a designer jacket.

But Ash had always suspected it was a mask. To keep away unwelcome things, even people.

Somewhere behind the theatrics and fire, Ash was sure, hides someone quietly scared of being seen when the lights went out. Elise cracked jokes so no one would see the cracks in her.

And something about that tugged at his chest. Hard.

Because someone like Elise—someone with that spunk—deserved more than an armor to carry.

She deserved peace. Happiness. The real kind.

He didn't text again. But he didn't put his phone down, either. Just in case...

He didn't know if he was ready to cross that line. Elise is a spitfire. And she should be with someone who could maintain her spark, rather than contain it. She needs someone who is not afraid to burn.

So he sighed and sat there in the quiet, with Mira beside him, his screen still glowing.

Waiting.

Later that night, Mira stood alone in their apartment.

Crystal had gone to Kelly's for moral support. Mira had rain-checked—said she needed to think. The truth was, she doubted she'd be much help with the Kelly-and-Josh situation when she hadn't even sorted herself.

She walked to the fridge, looking for comfort. Maybe even joy.

There it was: a tub of pistachio gelato. Still half full. Maybe it would do.

She'd been trying to write in her journal for hours, but the words had stayed away. So instead, she carried the gelato to the couch, turned on the TV, and let the quiet blue light fill the room.

She curled into the cushions, spoon in hand.

And then, with every bite, a fragment of her memory returned—
not like a lightning bolt, but like a soft thread tugging from somewhere half-stitched in her chest. Teasing at first. Bit by bit...

It was the first time Blaze took her out to dinner. They were at a local restaurant—bright, loud, filled with people and laughter. She'd worn something casual. Hair in a ponytail. No makeup.

But she'd felt free that night. Light. A version of herself detached from family names and scrutiny.

He'd asked her what she wanted. Nobody had ever asked her that.

And she didn't even hesitate. "Gelato. First."

Blaze smiled in amusement. As if he'd never heard of such a thing in his life. "You want dessert before the meal?"

She grinned. "Exactly."

"That's unorthodox."

"So is letting someone else order for you," she shot back. Then, eyes lit with stubborn glee:
"Who's to say what we can or can't do?"

He'd looked at her—longer than he should have. She remembered the way his expression softened. Like he was seeing something she hadn't realized she'd offered.

"Besides," she'd added, scooping the first bite, "this way I'll have more room for dessert. The most important part of the meal."

But even then, it wasn't just about dessert.

It was about choosing something. Something small and simple that she could proudly look at and say, that was my decision.

She'd spent so much of her life following rules someone else wrote. That night, with him, she chose to start with joy.

She had always wondered what it was with him and gelato. Little did she know it was because of her. Blaze had always kept her memories close. He had honored her choices, no matter how odd they appeared, even if they were forgotten.

And she never understood, that even when she didn't remember them herself... he remembered for her.

Journal Entry

I think I'm beginning to see the whole picture now. Why I felt drawn to Seattle without knowing why. Why I walked into that office on the first day and Blaze looked at me like I was both a miracle and a warning.

Why he kept his distance, even when I leaned in. It was never apathy. It was armor.

He wasn't trying to keep me out. He was trying to protect what was already broken—me, him, whatever we used to be. And it hurts to admit this, but... I understand.

I understand why he chose silence. Why he stood in the shadows instead of beside me. Why every time he walked away, he thought he was doing the right thing.

I just don't know how to fix what's left. I don't know how to hold something that's been cracked in so many places and call it whole again. Maybe time will help. Maybe one day the ache will dull and the edges won't feel so sharp.

Maybe we'll find our way back, or maybe we'll just find peace—separately. But for now, I'll carry the truth he gave me. And I'll try—gently, quietly—to heal the wound where he used to be.