I waited, anxious about Hera’s safety. Several questions flooded my mind. Who were those men? Why was Hera so agitated? Did they come specifically to fetch her? Why did they look for Hera? What relation did they have with Hera?

All those disruptive thoughts consumed me like some deadly disease. Though, the thing I worried the most was—what if she didn’t come back?

Fortunately, she did.

She came home, looking exhausted and pale. She greeted me briefly and sat down next to me, nuzzling her head on my shoulder. “Sorry for the wait,” she apologized—to me, it sounded like a forced cheerfulness.

That was the reason I didn’t question anything.

That night, we ate. The food—I didn’t know the name—was good. Though, I’d admit it was a little awkward. I couldn’t entirely enjoy the food. What a waste. It was a tasty looking one, smelled nice also. But my mind—maybe, our minds—were so preoccupied that we couldn’t enjoy the meal.

We finished the food and set aside the dishes. We could do dishes the next day, when the sun was up.

“That was tasty,” I tried to lighten the mood—well, I wasn’t lying. After eating, I grew drowsy. I told Hera, “I’m sleepy.”

“You can use my lap,” Hera offered, tapping on her lap softly. I nodded obediently and crawled like a little baby to her lap. I propped myself, sighing in relief. Muttering a brief thank you, I closed my eyes. Time to sleep, then. Laying on her lap was so comfortable that I forgot anything I should have cared.

Hera brushed my hair softly, tucking it behind my ear. Warmth resonated from her fingertips with every loving touch. I got drowsier, my consciousness between the wake and the sleep.

“Vega?” she called in the softest voice. I was still half awake, but my system refused to let out a reply. I stayed still—though able to hear her, unable to reply. She waited for a second before whispering, “I guess you’re asleep.”

I wasn’t.

“Well, let me tell you a story,” she began, finally. I felt her fingers brushing across my hair in gentle motion. “A story of a young woman named Altair Zelinda...”

And, she began. She told me a story of a young woman raised in wealth, raised as a proper lady. A young woman with so much expectation forced onto her. A young woman who dreamed of freedom. She told me how the woman wished to run away ever since she was little, dreamed of being surrounded by the beauty of nature, dreamed of experiencing life to the fullest. She told me how the young woman defied her own parents’ wishes, and how she escaped the cage of the wealthy. She told me how the young woman experienced her life outside the little cocoon, how mesmerizing she found the nature was, how she was infatuated with people’s interactions, and how she fell in love.

She told me how the young woman fell in love with a poor, lovely girl. A girl who was naively happy with her companion. A girl who looked forward to her every day. A girl who was so trusting despite once betrayed. A girl who she could fall in love, truly and deeply.

Sadly, she continued, the young woman’s parents had finally caught up with her. Normally, she would flee to somewhere far. Though, finally finding something precious to her, she decided to stop running away. She would face her parents head on, working out on some matters. She decided to come back to her own cage.

“Though,” she said. “I didn’t want to leave you for even a second.”

And I was caught off guard. A train of questions passed through my head. What was she talking about? Leaving me? Why would she leave me? She didn’t have to leave me, did she? After all, she was telling a story of a different woman, right?

As those questions flooded my mind, I felt my entire system shutting down. The last thing I recalled before I drifted into sleep was her voice growing distance.

“I—”