Hollow Creek didn’t do quiet.
By the next morning, rumors pulsed through the school hallways like electricity. Talk of police lights near the warehouse spread fast — distorted into stories of fights, arrests, and even weapons no one had seen.
And Micah’s name floated at the center of it.
Elara found him sitting near the cedar tree before class, head in his hands.
“They questioned my dad this morning,” he said without looking up. “Not accusing — just… asking.”
Her breath caught. “About you?”
“About Evan.”
That name carried new weight now — dangerous, heavy.
Micah stood and paced once. “I was so stupid to go out there.”
“You weren’t stupid,” Elara said softly. “You were loyal.”
“Loyalty can get people hurt,” he snapped — immediately regretting the edge in his tone. “I mean… I should have pulled farther away when he first showed up.”
Elara stepped closer.
“But you didn’t,” she said. “Because you don’t abandon people.”
He met her eyes — torn between gratitude and fear.
“That’s exactly the problem.”
---
Before lunch, Micah was called into student services.
Elara waited outside on a hard plastic chair that creaked every time she shifted her weight. Twenty minutes passed. Thirty.
Her thoughts spiraled.
If they suspend him…
If they think he was involved…
If this becomes more than rumors…
Finally, the door opened.
Micah emerged pale — but standing.
“They warned me,” he said quietly. “Said if my name comes up again connected to anything violent, the school board could step in.”
Her chest ached. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it’s reality.”
---
That evening, Elara noticed something strange.
Micah hadn’t answered her texts for hours.
Her stomach knotted when she passed the corner near the warehouse again — police tape fluttering, fading but not gone.
She dialed before overthinking.
He answered on the third ring.
“Where are you?” she demanded.
“Away,” he replied — too quickly.
“Micah…”
Silence.
“Did Evan contact you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“To meet.”
Her heart jumped. “You said no more secrets.”
“I didn’t go,” he insisted.
“But you almost did.”
Another silence.
She exhaled unsteadily.
“You can’t protect me by shutting me out.”
“I don’t know how else to keep you safe,” he whispered.
Safety.
The word suddenly felt dangerous.
She spoke carefully — choosing truth over comfort.
“Micah, loving someone means accepting risk. You can’t love me and keep control of every outcome.”
He didn’t answer.
“Did you hear me?”
“…Yeah.”
“Then meet me.”
“Where?”
“The tree"
---
Dusk painted the cedar branches amber when they stood facing each other again.
“I thought about staying away,” Micah admitted. “Thought maybe the safest thing was ending this.”
Elara felt the words hit like a blow — but didn’t retreat.
“That’s fear talking,” she said. “Not love.”
“Love?” he echoed faintly.
The word hung between them.
Elara inhaled.
“Yes,” she said. “Love.”
She didn’t overthink it — didn’t soften it — just told the truth.
Micah stared like the world had tilted under his feet.
“You mean that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
The silence stretched — thick, electric.
Then he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
“I love you too.”
They stood together beneath the cedar tree, clinging tightly — not because the world felt safe, but because they had each other against it.
---
Later, as Micah walked home alone, a car slowed beside him.
The window rolled halfway down.
Evan sat behind the wheel — eyes dark.
“You think you saved her,” Evan said quietly.
Micah didn’t move.
“You didn’t,” Evan continued. “You just made enemies.”
The car rolled forward and disappeared down the street.
Micah stood frozen long after it vanished — a chilled certainty settling in.
Evan wasn’t done.
YOU ARE READING
✨ "When the Light Returns" ✨
Spiritual🌙 PROLOGUE At 17 years old, Elara James believed God lived in the space between her heartbeat and her breath. She felt Him when her mother hummed hymns in the kitchen, when sunlight broke through storm clouds, and when she whispered bedtime prayers...
