Silent Ruin {A Novella}|18+

Ch. 1

Ghost Of The Past

The village was cloaked in a fragile calm, the kind that never lasted. Here, life moved with an unhurried simplicity, nestled away from the scars the war had carved into the rest of the world. Leah sat by the hearth, watching the flames dance, their flicker offering a warmth that she had yet to find in her marriage to Jonathan. It wasn't that she was unhappy—not entirely. There were moments, soft and fleeting, where she felt content beside him.

She looked over at Jonathan now, his strong hands carefully tending to the tools on the table. The rhythmic scrape of his sharpening stone was a steady reminder of the life they built together. He had been kind, patient even, offering her a new beginning after everything had crumbled. For that, she was grateful. Sometimes she smiled when he wasn't looking, a small, secret smile. It was a quiet kind of happiness, one she tried to convince herself was enough.

But it was always there—just beneath the surface. The grief. The gnawing ache she had learned to swallow down, like a bitter pill that had become a part of her. Sebastian.

Leah's breath hitched. Even now, the sound of his name in her mind brought a burn to her throat, a sensation too close to guilt. They said he was dead, just like so many others, swallowed whole by the relentless hunger of the war. Yet, her heart hadn't let go, and neither had the haunting what-ifs that clung to her like ghosts.

Jonathan's voice broke her reverie. "You've been quiet today."

"I'm always quiet," she replied softly, the trace of a smile tugging at her lips. It wasn't a lie, not entirely. Leah had become an expert at silences, at filling the space between words with what she couldn't bring herself to say. He nodded, not pressing her further. He was used to it by now.

Outside, the village murmured with life, women gathering to gossip, children running between homes, their laughter a sound she envied. She stared out the small window, her eyes following the trail of smoke that curled from the chimneys. For a brief moment, she thought of the life she might have had—if Sebastian had returned, if he had stayed.

That life had been snatched from her, lost in a burst of gunfire and blood-soaked mud. And she had survived. What a cruel thing survival could be.

Leah closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair, letting the quiet envelope her. Her fingertips grazed the necklace hidden beneath her dress, the one Sebastian had given her the night before he left, its presence a constant reminder of the promise that was never kept. It had become a talisman of sorts, a relic of a life she no longer lived, but couldn't forget.

She could hear the distant hum of voices outside, louder than usual, breaking through her solitude. Something had shifted. Leah stood, her pulse quickening against her will. She moved to the window again, squinting through the glass as she saw a small group gathered at the edge of the village. Jonathan's voice rose, catching her attention.

"They're coming back," he said, his words punctuated by a rare excitement. "A group of soldiers... survivors."

Leah froze. For a moment, the ground seemed to shift beneath her, the room closing in. Her vision blurred at the edges as her heart leapt—hope, dangerous and unbidden, seized her chest. She wanted to laugh at herself, to scream at the foolishness of it all. He wouldn't be there. She knew that. And yet...

Her lips parted, a single breath catching in her throat. Sebastian. His name pounded in her chest like a war drum, relentless and cruel.

She pressed a hand to the windowpane, her fingers trembling. Jonathan continued speaking, but she couldn't hear him, couldn't focus on anything but the surge of memories clawing their way to the surface. The way Sebastian had smiled at her before he left, the feel of his hands in hers, strong and warm, promising her everything she had longed for.