Unpredictable Connection

21. Half-Told Stories

3rd person POV

Char’s arms instinctively tightened around Engfa as her mind tried to process the weight of what she'd just heard.

It wasn’t an accident?

The thought rang like a warning bell, opening the floodgates of a thousand questions—but she knew better than to pressure Engfa, not now. Not while she was like this.

Gently, Char pulled away just enough to look into Engfa’s eyes. “Shh…” she whispered, brushing the tears from her cheeks and cupping her face with warm, steady hands. “It’s not your fault. But you need to breathe. Just… relax, okay?”

Engfa gave a small nod and stood up, Char also followed and held her hand. Char stepped closer and cupped her cheeks. Engfa's breathing was ragged, hands trembling ever so slightly. Char continued to wipe away the tears that kept slipping down Engfa’s cheeks, leaning in closer without even realizing. She couldn’t fathom how this woman—so strong on the outside—was still standing. Engfa always smiled, always held herself together like glue for everyone else, all while quietly crumbling inside.

Engfa’s eyes had shut again from the crying, but when she reopened them, she found Char’s face only inches from hers. Her gaze drifted to Char’s lips.

Their eyes locked.

Char didn’t speak.

Engfa didn’t think.

She leaned in, heart thundering, and pressed her lips gently against Char’s.

For one beat, the world stopped.

Char froze, her breath catching—but she didn’t pull away. Her eyes slid shut, arms wrapping slowly around Engfa’s neck like her body had known this moment was coming long before her mind did.

The kiss wasn’t fiery. It wasn’t rushed. It was soft—achingly soft. Like both of them were trying to say something without speaking. Like they’d been on the edge of this moment for far too long.

Engfa's lips didn’t move at first. She just let the warmth settle in. Then her lips began to move, cautious at first, learning the rhythm of someone who made her feel safe—wanted—for the first time in forever. Char responded with the same gentleness, lips brushing back like a silent approval.

Engfa’s hand slid around Char’s waist. The other cupped her neck, pulling her impossibly closer, holding on like she didn’t trust herself to let go.

It was a kiss laced with exhaustion, with softness, with every unsaid word. It was a kiss that said don’t leave,  and you don’t have to hold it all alone anymore.

And when they finally pulled away, Char’s face flushed deep red. Her eyes were wide, unsure, vulnerable—but she didn’t move far. Instead, she leaned forward and buried her face in Engfa’s shoulder, arms tightening around her as if to disappear inside her.

Engfa blinked in disbelief, barely breathing. Her own arms wrapped around Char’s waist, holding her close.

And they just stood there—two people lost in a moment that had been waiting for them for a long, long time.

Inside that quiet corner of the library… something had just begun.

The rain outside had finally stopped, but dusk had already set in, painting the sky in somber shades of violet and blue.

Engfa turned toward the window, then back at Char. “We should get going. Irin’s house is an hour from here. If we leave now, we’ll probably get there by 8.”