The rays of the setting sun are streaking the skies crimson and marigold, and the girl walks along the dirt road outside the house. As long as she does not go to town, it should be safe, she thinks. She is wearing a hat over her head to conceal her hair, and clothing plain enough to evade any attention.
The scenery of trees rich in flowers, of shrubs in full bloom, and of the rolling hills beyond is a breathtaking sight, yet it also leaves an empty, forlorn feeling in the young girl's chest. Here around her is the freedom denied to her. She wishes she never had to hide—after all, what could her pursuers possibly want from her, a parentless drifter with nothing to her name? Out here is a world where she could have made something out of her life. Meanwhile, she cloisters herself within a secluded hut, with days passing worthlessly like sand between her fingers. A vague sensation of entrapment fills her being.
Her perturbed ruminations get cut off by the sound of hooves on dirt. She spots a carriage coming at her direction, and she makes way. Instead of going past her, it stops by her. She does not dare peer into the window out of fearful courtesy.
A voice calls out to her—one that shakes her soul down to its core.
"Have you forgotten about me?"
Her mouth opens to speak before she even had time to think.
"Don't be foolish! Of course I haven't!"
A brief pause.
"I wish you had. I want you to live on and let go."
"I will never do that."
"Please stay as you are. Don't go looking for me."
The girl loses all apprehension and rushes to the stagecoach, desperate to see the owner of the voice.
Then Marigold's dream ends.
Her mauve eyes fly open, and it takes her a few moments to recognize her surroundings. She is in Steven's living room, lying on one of the couches*, with a book lying facedown on her tummy. She turns her head to the window, where she sees the colors of dusk cloaking the greenery outside.
Marigold sits up, shutting the book closed and setting it on the nearest table. A faint scent of tea is in the air, and there are sounds of someone working in the kitchen.
'Steven,' she immediately thinks.
The girl wastes no time in getting up and walking to the kitchen.
"Let me help," she calls out.
"Hmm, can you?" Steven teases her rather offhandedly, most of his attention focused on slicing the potatoes.
Marigold raises her eyebrows.
"Naturally. How do you suppose I fed myself these past few days?" Now is her turn to smirk. "It hasn't been a long time, and you are getting quite rusty with your teasing."
He pauses for a fraction of a moment, but recovers quickly. "The lack of your company is making me lose my wit," he counters as he turns his head to Marigold's direction with a flirty expression.
The girl conceals the flutter in her chest with an amused face. "Let your muse provide you all the inspiration you need then," she coos, mirroring Steven's coyness.
The two laugh lightly at the silliness of their exchange. It does not take long for Marigold to get into Steven's pace, and the two continue to work together peacefully.
Dinner and dishes have now been taken care of, and the two have retired to their rooms. Marigold has had her lamp snuffed out for almost a quarter of an hour now—a good fifteen minutes' worth of tossing and turning restlessly in bed. She can blame her sleeplessness on Steven's sudden return, but she knows the real cause is spending the whole afternoon slumbering. Forcing oneself to sleep often ends in failure. Knowing that from experience, Marigold relights her lamp, opens the door and goes outside. She glances at the empty desk in her room before shutting the door behind her.
Outside her room is darkness save for the soft rays of moonlight pouring from the windows and the opened back door. A momentary feeling of alarm rushes through the girl that she turns to check if Steven is in his room. No light can be seen from under the door. But upon opening the unlocked door and seeing no one inside, Marigold's worries dissipate. She goes out to the garden to join Steven.
The young man is lying on one of the benches just near the doorway, his left hand holding up something small above his head. The object glistens.
Marigold realizes instantly. 'Oh. That.'
With soundless steps she walks and leans over Steven, hoping to catch him off guard.
"Cannot sleep?" She chirps.
And she indeed catches him unguarded. His blue eyes widen and his hand closes on the object, clutching it close to his chest.
"There is no need to hide it; I know what it is," Marigold says with knowing confidence.
"Y-you do?"
Steven stutters. His eyes show a mix of anxiety and hope, an emotion Marigold has not seen in him yet. The girl smiles at him.
"It's a necklace, hidden in your drawer. That is what you get for leaving your room unlocked."
Steven laughs and turns away from her. "I should tell you off for looking through my things without permission, but I also should have expected that from you." He sits up and the girl seats herself beside him.
Marigold notices the young man calming down somewhat. "Hmm, what a shame. You actually thought of me so highly," she jests.
"I only assumed you have enough shame," Steven replies with a grin, now back to his usual self.
The girl's lavender eyes shift their gazes at the starry sky. "In my defense, I waited a few days before entering your room," she declares with guileless ease.
"Hmph. Fair enough," Steven concedes, with mock offense.
Marigold turns to look at Steven once more, particularly at his left hand grasping the necklace tightly.
"Can I see it?" She asks, doing her best to put up a jovial front.
Steven regards her for a moment before holding up his open palm.
Her pale hand hesitates, then reaches for the pendant, taking it gently with her fingers. She places it on her left palm and runs her right thumb over the jeweled surface.
"How intricate," she gushes, examining every cut and facet of the embedded gems. She turns the pendant to its other side. It is flat and bare save for a little indentation in the middle.
"This side appears odd to me," she remarks.
"Really? How so?"
"It seems to be missing something, does it not? Or maybe it ought to be attached to something."
Steven responds with a thoughtful hum. "I suppose so."
Marigold glances at him. "Don't you know?"
The young man shrugs nonchalantly. "It did not come with anything else when I bought it."
The girl keeps on examining the necklace. There are more questions she could have asked Steven, for instance, where he bought the necklace. Besides that, since he would have noticed the other side of the pendant upon first inspection, did he not ask the seller about it?
Is it in her place to be so inquisitive, though?
"You ought to know about such things, I tell you," she settles for a light reproach to mask her curiosity. "Say, if you acquired this from an antique shop..."
She casts Steven a grave look. "...What if this necklace bears a dark curse?"
The young man snickers.
"I'm not done," Marigold pretends to scold him. She raises the jewelled rose at his face. "What if this is a key to buried treasure? The pirates will have your head for this."
Steven tries to hold back his mirth. "What a wild imagination you have there."
"Worst of all," Marigold finally warns with true fervor, closing her left hand into a fist, "if this actually came with a set of other jewelry, you could have paid the jeweller more money for less its worth!"
The black-haired boy bursts out in hearty laughter this time. "Truly the worst possibility, aye," he assents in between fits of chuckles.
"Naturally," the black-haired girl says with absolute confidence. She loosens her grip on the necklace, letting it hang and dangle from her fingers while she unrestrainedly stares at it.
"Who are you going to give this to?" She asks in a softer voice.
"A friend."
The word hangs heavily in the air between them. She can say for certain it means anything but the meaning of the word itself.
"I see."
Steven looks up to the stars. "I cannot give it to her anymore."
Marigold says nothing.
Steven says nothing.
Silence.
Save for the girl's loud heartbeat.
The deafening sound compels her to demand an unreasonable favor.
She takes a deep breath.
"Won't you give it to me instead, Steven?"
Her eyes resolutely meet his. Only the moonlight shines on the two of them.
His eyes give off a somber glow. It is not as mysterious as some of his expressions, but it shows the depth of his emotions in uncharacteristic clarity. She wonders at her selfishness for making him relive what might be the memory of his lost love, and even more so, her venturing to make herself the new object of his affection.
She averts her eyes.
"Please don't misunderstand. I have taken a liking to the pendant, and if it pleases you, I will buy it from you," she hurriedly reasons.
"If you dislike the idea, I will not speak of it again. I understand how dear this must be to you, and I have no—"
"You can have it."
Marigold is struck dumb. "What?"
Steven smiles kindly at her. The dark-haired girl feels a pang of guilt in her chest.
"You are rather impudent," he says, though without the slightest hint of censure, "But to claim a possibly cursed jewelry, you are quite courageous too."
She does not know how to react, despite how far she has gotten to obtaining what she wanted. Did she not covet the pendant the moment she laid eyes on it? Was it not the beauty of the necklace that broke her heart?
Nay, lies cannot salvage her now. For deep down she knows that replacing someone's memory does not come as simply as stealing one of her gifts.
"Thank you," she barely utters, her voice caught in her throat.
"What's wrong?" Steven asks, his smile fading.
'I fully understand now that you reject me,' is what she wishes to say. She ties herself together with a grin instead. "I shall gleefully partake of anything, be it curses or pirates. This little thing is too pretty." She dons the pendant around her neck.
Steven's face lightens up once more.
"It is getting late," Marigold casually shifts the subject, rubbing both her arms as if warding off the cold.
"Shall we head back inside?"
A small nod.
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