𝗠𝗘𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗕𝗘 // 𝗖.𝗙

𝖬 𝖤 𝖬 𝖮 𝖱 𝖨 𝖤 𝖲

THE FAIR pulses with a frenetic energy, a whirlwind of shrieks and spinning metal that grates against the quiet storm raging within Sylvia.

Every neon flash, every distorted melody from the carousel, was a shard of glass reflecting a past she desperately tried to outrun.

The Ferris wheel, seems to mock her with its slow, deliberate revolutions, each carriage a tiny stage for memories she couldn't escape.

The air, thick enough to taste, was a cloying perfume of spun sugar and frying oil, a sensory ambush that rips her back to summers long gone.

She could almost feel Susannah's hand in hers, warm and reassuring as she steers them through the throngs of people, a beacon of maternal love.

Laurel would feign disapproval at their sugar-fueled antics, but her eyes would betray her amusement.

And Conrad, always Conrad, his youthful face alight with competitive fire as he aims baseballs at impossible targets, desperate to win her a prize.

They were invincible then, bathed in the golden light of youth, their world a canvas of endless possibilities, before loss had painted it in shades of gray.

Sylvia's gaze drifts back to Conrad, his silhouette a study in melancholic brooding.

The years had etched lines of sorrow onto his face, mirroring the pain she felt in her own heart.

A gentle nudge, a silent plea to break through the wall he'd built around himself. "Can you lighten up, please?"

"How is this any less hot than it would be inside?" Conrad groans, the words heavy with the stickiness of the summer air.

Sweat beads on his forehead, plastering strands of hair to his temples.

"Never said it was going to be cooler." Sylvia retorts, her voice laced with a playful defiance that didn't quite mask the flush on her cheeks. "But it gives us a moment to enjoy ourselves, soak in the atmosphere."

"You know what I want to enjoy?" Taylor interjects, her voice cutting through the simmering tension. "Some ice cream. Nature's air conditioning."

A chorus of agreement ripples through the group, a collective yearning for the sweet relief of frozen confection.

"Yes, please!" Sylvia chimes in, impulsively grabbing Conrad's hand and tugging him towards one of the many ice cream shops lining the boardwalk.

The simple act sent a jolt through him, a surge of warmth that belied the sweltering heat.

Conrad glances down at their intertwined hands, the contact electrifying.

It felt so right, so familiar.

He'd been starved of her touch for so long, and the comfort it instantly brought him ignited a searing regret.

Sylvia, noticing his gaze, quickly let go, the abruptness of the movement a sharp sting.

It was such a natural instinct for her, a reflex honed by months of distance and unspoken pain.

Even after all this time, her body unconsciously yearned for him, a betrayal of her resolve.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs, the words barely audible above the cacophony of the boardwalk.

"D-Don't apologize." Conrad mumbles, his voice thick with a vulnerability he rarely allows himself to show.

He reaches out, gently taking her hand in his again, a silent plea for forgiveness.

Jeremiah and Beau watch them with knowing smirks, a mixture of amusement and empathy in their eyes as they waited in line.