Tangled In Time

Whispers in The Walls

I selected a light, airy cream day dress with a fitted bodice that gracefully flared out at the knee, adorned with a delicate floral print. It boasted a boat neckline and short sleeves. Blake, who had only managed to get one pair of shoes—unfortunately a size too large—had chosen low-heeled, open-toe sandals in the same cream colour as my dress. Grateful for the low heels, I retreated to the small bathroom to change and emerged feeling rather disheartened.

As I shut the bathroom door, Blake looked up at me. I hesitated, smoothing the dress over my hips. "Do I look ridiculous? Please, be honest," I asked as I stepped out, my voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. He gazed at me for a moment, and I saw his expression soften before he responded.

"You look... nice."

I had taken my hair out of the ponytail, the heat having caused it to frizz and cascade around my shoulders in a wild, untamed mane. My hand instinctively reached up to smooth it, but my fingers caught in the curls.

"The shoes are a tad too big," I admitted, demonstrating how easily they slipped off. "And I feel a bit frumpy," I added, shifting uncomfortably. Blake's brow furrowed slightly as he pulled a sheet off a nearby mirror, revealing its slightly cloudy surface.

"Why don't you take a look?"

I rolled my eyes, muttering something about his unhelpfulness, and awkwardly made my way to the mirror, tripping slightly as the oversized shoes betrayed me. Staring at my reflection, I found the dress undeniably lovely. The floral pattern was soft, understated, and elegant. Yet I couldn't look past my own image—brown, frizzy waves framing my face, brown eyes rimmed with red from earlier tears. The contrast between the dress and my dishevelled appearance only deepened my discomfort. Wordlessly, Blake stepped forward and handed me a wide-brimmed straw hat adorned with a cream satin ribbon. The gesture was uncharacteristically gentle.

"Thank you," I muttered, holding the hat in my hands and wishing, not for the first time, that I had access to hair straighteners. "Do you think my hair looks bad?" I asked, half-expecting a pointed comment, as I tried to comb my fingers through it again but found them stuck.

"Not at all," he said with surprising frankness. "I quite like it." His tone was so matter-of-fact that I turned to look at him through the mirror, startled. His expression remained calm, unreadable. Shaking my head, I adjusted the hat on my head, smoothed my hair one last time, and followed him out.

The path through the forest was bathed in dappled sunlight, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves above, carrying with it the earthy, soothing scent of wood and soil. The distant sound of birds chirping lent the moment an almost magical quality, but I was too preoccupied to enjoy it. My oversized shoes made every step a struggle, and I huffed as I trailed behind Blake, stopping every few feet to adjust my footing.

"So, what's the story?" I called out, leaning against a tree to catch my breath. Blake had continued walking until he realised I was no longer following him.

He stopped and turned, sighing as he retraced his steps. "Do you need me to carry you?" he asked, a trace of exasperation in his voice.

"No," I grumbled, shoving my foot back into the shoe and glaring at him. The relentless sun, combined with my struggles to keep the shoes on, was quickly draining my patience. Blake shrugged and continued walking ahead, leaving me to manage as best I could.

"I had a friend in the army," he began after a moment of silence. His voice was quieter now, almost introspective. "He passed away. No one here knew him personally. I visited his sister and his mother last year, and I thought you could pretend to be her."

I blinked, processing his words. "Does anyone know her name?" I asked carefully, my brow furrowing at the complications such a lie could bring.

"I don't believe—" Blake stopped abruptly and turned to me with a sudden realisation. "I've not even asked what your name is," he said, stopping in his tracks.