The night cracked open, spilling stars across the sky like scattered salt on velvet. Somewhere, music drifted soft and low, and laughter danced through the meadow where glowing paper lanterns bobbed and weaved like fire spirits on strings.
"Catch it!" someone called and the game continued.
A flicker of gold zipped past Acacia's shoulder, light as breath. She reached out, missed. Argan, swift beside her, leapt and cupped the glowing lantern between his hands just before it floated out of reach.
She blinked as he turned toward her, grinning. "You really thought you could outrun me?"
"I wasn't running," Acacia retorted, brushing hair from her face. "I was thinking."
"Dangerous habit," Seren murmured dryly from behind, already catching another drifting lantern and casually tossing it into a growing pile. "For both of you."
Before Acacia could answer, Argan stepped closer, still holding the lantern. "You think too much. Just move. Feel the air, not the thought."
His hand brushed her back lightly as he passed, guiding her forward and for a second, she forgot the rules entirely.
But then came Begonia, nearly colliding into them with a surprised yelp, Myron hot on her heels.
"I swear if you duck behind Acacia one more time..!" he huffed.
"Then catch me!" she laughed, dodging behind Acacia anyway, cheeks flushed with exertion and something else.
Myron hesitated, smirking. "Gladly."
He darted sideways and instead of chasing the lantern, he lunged toward Begonia. In the scramble, their hands met, then slipped, then found each other again, clasped by accident and entirely too long.
They both froze.
Heat bloomed between their palms.
"I thought you were going for the lantern," she mumbled.
"Changed my mind," he said, softer now. "You were easier to catch."
She shoved him lightly, eyes wide, and darted away with her face glowing brighter than any lantern in the sky.
Not far from them, Dominic and Irene moved in synchronized steps, both scanning the glowing orbs that swayed above the grass.
"There, left!" Irene called, eyes sparkling.
Dominic lunged, caught it and turned, triumphant. But his victory was cut short when Irene stumbled, slipping on damp grass. Instinct moved faster than thought. He caught her by the waist and steadied her, eyes locked with hers.
She laughed breathlessly, still in his arms. "You always this heroic?"
"Only when you're watching," he said, the words slipping before he could weigh them.
Her smile faltered, then deepened, slow and blooming. She pulled away gently, fingers trailing from his.
Lanterns swirled above like wayward stars, dodging hands and tugging hearts.
In the middle of it all, Sienna, hair windblown, clapped her hands and shouted, "Last round! Whoever catches the final lantern wins!"
A glowing orb hovered low between them all, just out of reach, flickering like it knew it was the prize.
Acacia sprinted forward at the same time as Argan and Seren.
Their shoulders brushed.
Their gazes collided.
Three sets of hands reached for the same drifting light.
And none of them noticed how quiet the others had gone. How Lyra had paused to stare. How Myron was watching Begonia and forgot to laugh. How Dominic stood still, eyes on Irene's silhouette, lanterns forgotten.
Somewhere in the distance, the final lantern flickered…
…then dipped.
…and fell, right into Acacia's waiting hands.
Panting, heart hammering, she straightened up...
Only to find both Seren and Argan staring at her, silent.
And in that stillness, beneath the laughter, something heavier began to stir.
Not rivalry.
But choice.
But closeness.
But the first spark before the fire.
Someone clapped from the side. "That's it, we're declaring Acacia the clear winner,"
Begonia declared, collapsing onto a cushion with exaggerated drama. "Next time, I demand a warning if Acacia's playing."
That drew a round of laughter from the others, light and carefree.
Slowly, the circle unraveled. People wandered off, some drawn to the warmth of the main firepit, others in search of cider, snacks, or simply quieter corners of the estate garden. Begonia and Myron seated far too close for it to be coincidence, Irene twirling a loose thread on her sleeve while Dominic offered her a drink with more care than was necessary.
But Acacia found herself between Argan and Seren once more, drawn back to the crackling warmth of the fire as if it offered answers.
They sat in a quiet triangle, shadows flickering across their faces.
Argan broke the silence first, toying with a branch before tossing it into the flames. "You were faster than I expected."
She raised a brow. "You thought I wouldn't catch a single lantern?"
Seren's voice was lower, teasing. "He says that now, but you should've seen his face when you snatched the last one from right under his nose."
Argan gave a dramatic sigh. "Humbling. I'll have to train harder next time. Perhaps duel the wind."
Acacia laughed, the sound a little breathless, still warm from the thrill of the game.
She glanced toward the fire, letting silence stretch a little.
Then softly, she said, "It's strange… for the first time in a long while, I felt… light."
Seren looked at her, something unreadable in his eyes. "You looked like you belonged in that moment."
Argan's tone was quieter now. "Maybe you always did. You just forgot."
She turned toward the flames, the weight of their words pressing gently at her chest. "I don't know who I was before."
Seren leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "Then maybe this is who you are now. No past. Just… this."
The fire popped softly. Acacia looked down at her fingers, remembering the coolness of silk lanterns, the way her name had echoed in their voices earlier, without judgment, without a past to tangle through it.
Argan nudged her lightly with his elbow. "You're not just good at catching lanterns, Acacia. You change things without trying."
She tilted her head, puzzled. "Change things?"
Seren's gaze didn't waver. "You walked into this evening like you were uncertain of the space you took. And now look around."
She did.
The quiet blush on Begonia's cheeks as Myron handed her a second roasted marshmallow.
The quick glance Dominic gave Irene when she smiled at something small he said.
The others, laughing freely, at ease.
And here, between two boys with the storm in their blood and quiet devotion in their eyes, sat a girl they were both beginning to see as something they couldn't quite name.
A presence that unsettled.
A warmth that rooted.
Acacia looked down at her hands.
Then looked between the two of them, two different silences, two unreadable faces illuminated by gold and firelight.
Not far from Acacia, Begonia Woods sat with her legs tucked beneath her on a velvet blanket, a shawl slipping off one shoulder. She was fussing with her hair, fingers twisting a flower crown someone had thrown together earlier. Her usual poise was still there but tonight, it seemed softer around the edges.
Across from her, Myron Walter held a roasted skewer of honeyed fruit, turning it slightly to cool. "You're going to destroy that poor crown," he said without looking up. "It was never that well-made."
Begonia huffed lightly, eyes narrowed. "Then why did you insist on giving it to me?"
Myron gave a half-smile. "Because it made you laugh."
She paused.
And in that pause, the air between them changed.
"I didn't think you noticed things like that," she said.
He shrugged, gaze finally meeting hers. "I notice you."
A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, quickly masked with practiced grace but it lingered in her voice when she murmured,"You shouldn't say things like that unless you mean them."
Myron leaned back, elbows braced on the ground.
"I know."
And for once, he said nothing else.
Silence curled between them, ripe, unresolved but not unwelcome.
A few feet away, Dominic stood near the drink table, refilling his cup with something warm and cinnamon-scented. Irene lingered beside him, pretending to inspect the stacked porcelain cups, though her eyes flicked toward him more than once.
He noticed.
She looked up once, caught him watching.
And for a split second, her teasing composure wavered.
Dominic offered her the cup silently.
She took it, brushing his fingers.
It was nothing. Just a glance. A shared silence.
But something passed through it.. a question neither of them dared speak aloud yet.
Acacia sat slightly apart now, arms wrapped around her knees, the warmth of the fire licking her back while her face tilted toward the sky.
Above her, lanterns still floated, tiny golden boats drifting across the dark tide of the heavens. Some had already vanished into the night, their lights swallowed by distance. Others bobbed lazily, their glow painting soft halos across the stars.
She exhaled slowly.
All around her, voices rose and fell, Lyra teasing Astor over his competitive streak, Sienna laughing as Argan recounted a childhood tale of near disaster. Dominic and Irene spoke in low tones near the garden gate. Myron handed Begonia a second cup of something sweet.
The world had not stilled, not quite, but it had softened.
And yet… the weight of those two gazes still lingered on her skin.
Argan. Seren.
So different. So… present.
She leaned back onto her palms, eyes tracing the constellations overhead. "They don't remember me," she whispered to the stars. "Because there's nothing to remember."
But still… they looked at her like she was something worth watching.
A breeze passed, cool and clear, rustling the trees as if in answer.
And for the first time in a long while, Acacia didn't feel like she was lost.
She just felt like she was becoming.