Chapter 12: A Truth That Hurts
The sun was dipping low in the sky, casting long, honey-colored shadows across the village. The warmth that usually soothed Avrielle now felt stifling, pressing against her skin like a weight. Her feet moved faster than usual as she approached the hut. The pendant she'd found still hung hidden inside her dress pocket, brushing against her side with every step—like a quiet reminder that she couldn't ignore this anymore.
Ian was already home, crouched near the fire pit outside, poking at the flame to keep it alive. He looked up when he heard her footsteps, his face breaking into a familiar, boyish grin. "There you are," he said warmly. "I was just thinking about going to look for you."
Avrielle didn't smile back.
She sat down across from him, barely a foot between them but emotionally miles apart.
"Ian," she began, her voice low and careful, "can we talk?"
Something in her tone made his smile waver. "Of course. What's wrong?"
"I don't think this place is what we think it is."
Ian blinked. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated, gathering her thoughts. "Something's wrong with this village, Ian. With us being here. With… everything."
He sat up straighter. "Avi, where is this coming from?"
She pulled her knees to her chest and looked down. "I've been thinking about it for weeks now. But it started getting worse after the rituals stopped. Don't you feel it? Like… our heads were full of something before, and now that it's gone, we can feel again."
Ian was silent, staring at her as if trying to read between her words.
"I remember nothing before this village, Ian. Isn't that strange? Don't you think that's weird?"
He frowned. "Well, yeah, but… maybe that's just how it is. Maybe we're meant to be here. Maybe this is a fresh start."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's not. It's not natural to forget everything. Not even our parents, our homes, our lives. Nothing about this is right."
Ian tossed the stick into the fire and stood up abruptly, brushing off his pants. "Okay, stop. You're scaring yourself with these thoughts."
"I'm not scared!" she snapped, standing up as well. "I'm not crazy either, Ian! Something happened to us. This place did something to us, and it's like—like we've been drugged, or worse."
"Avrielle…" His tone was a warning now, his jaw clenched. "Do you even hear yourself?"
"Yes! And it's about time you did too!" Her voice rose as tears burned behind her eyes. "I know it sounds insane, but I can feel it. I know this isn't how we're supposed to live. We're not supposed to be here, playing house while the rest of the world has no idea where we are!"
Ian rubbed his hands over his face, frustration flickering through him. "You're pregnant, Avrielle. You're stressed. I get it. Your hormones are all over the place. But don't talk like this."
Her breath caught in her throat. "Don't you dare reduce this to hormones."
"I'm not trying to insult you—"
"Yes, you are!" she shouted. "You're refusing to see what's right in front of you because it's easier to believe this lie!"
He took a step back, stunned by the fury in her voice. "I love you, Avrielle. I love this life we've built. I thought you did too."
Her lip trembled, and she shook her head slowly. "I love you, Ian. I really do. But this life? It's a prison, and we didn't even realize we were locked in until now."
"So everything between us is just a lie and it was nothing but a mistake --that's what you want to say?" Ian replied totally in shock by her words.
Silence fell between them, thick and aching.
Ian ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the edge of the wooden platform outside the hut. His voice was quieter now, heavy with disbelief. "So what? You want to leave? Run away? And go where?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "But anywhere is better than this lie."
He looked up at her, his eyes stormy. "You'd leave everything behind? This—our home? Our baby?"
Her heart twisted at the mention of the child. She placed her hand over her belly. "That's the thing, Ian… I didn't choose any of this. Neither did you."
"And yet, here we are," he said bitterly. "Happy. Together. Expecting a child. And you're saying it's all fake?"
Avrielle's throat tightened. "I'm saying… I don't think it was real from the start. We were made to feel this way."
Ian stood up again, this time unable to hide the anger simmering inside him. "So all those nights we spent laughing, all the times I held you, the baby growing inside you—that's not real to you?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she took a step toward him. "Of course it's real, Ian. I feel everything. But that doesn't make it right. Don't you understand? We were forced into this! You don't remember, but I do. A little. Just pieces. But they're enough to know we didn't end up here by choice."
His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, trembling. "Why now, Avrielle? Why now, when everything was finally okay?"
"Because it's not okay!" she cried. "It never was!"
"Stop now, Avrielle. Please don't make me shout at you!" Ian seethed but she stopped talking seeing him fuming in anger. She knew she'd hurt him with these words but she had to tell him.
Ian turned away from her, his shoulders tense. "I can't do this. Not right now."
"Ian—"
"I said I can't!" His voice was raw, broken.
Avrielle covered her mouth, the sobs coming too fast now. She backed away slowly, not able to bear the pain in his eyes. She turned and stumbled inside the hut, closing the door behind her, leaving Ian standing outside in the dark, alone.
Inside, she collapsed onto the mat, the tears soaking her pillow as she curled around her belly protectively.
She had hoped he would believe her. That he would remember. That he'd feel the same unease crawling under her skin.
But instead, he'd looked at her like a stranger.
Outside, the fire crackled softly.
And the silence of the missing ritual pressed in like a haunting lullaby.