Fates Entwined

Chapter 10: A Silent Triumph

The cool evening breeze whispered through the quiet streets as Miri walked alongside Neil, her floral skirt swaying with each step. They had just wrapped up a casual dinner at a cozy, hole-in-the-wall café Neil had insisted she try.

"Best pasta in the city, right?" Neil said, grinning as he held the door open for her.

Miri laughed. "You weren't kidding! Though I think they went a little overboard with the garlic."

Neil chuckled. "I warned you about the garlic bread. Rookie mistake."

As they walked, their conversation meandered through light topics—work, Neil's latest art project, and an amusing story about his neighbor's hyperactive dog. But soon, Neil grew quieter, his expression more introspective.

"Hey," Miri said softly, nudging his arm. "What's on your mind?"

Neil hesitated, then sighed. "It's my mom. She's been... struggling. Ever since Dad passed away, it's like she's lost her spark. I've tried everything to cheer her up, but nothing seems to work."

Miri's heart tightened. She had always seen Neil as upbeat and steady, so hearing this vulnerability struck a chord. "I'm so sorry, Neil. Is there anything I can do?"

Neil shook his head, forcing a small smile. "Thanks, but I don't think anyone can fix this. It's something she has to find on her own."

Miri didn't press further, but her mind was already racing.

That night, Miri sat in her room, deep in thought. Neil's words replayed in her mind, and she couldn't shake the image of his mom—a woman she'd never met—feeling alone and adrift.

"This is it," she whispered to herself. "She's my second human."

The rules echoed in her memory: The person must be helpless. They must never know who helped them.

She thought back to Neil's stories about his mom. He had once mentioned her love for gardening and how she had stopped tending to her plants after his father's death. An idea sparked in Miri's mind.

Over the next few days, Miri quietly set her plan into motion. She tracked down a local gardening club known for their outreach projects and anonymously donated enough funds to refurbish a small greenhouse and supply new plants. She wrote an email under a pseudonym, suggesting Neil's mother as a recipient, explaining her love for gardening and her recent struggles.

The club enthusiastically agreed and organized a surprise for Neil's mom. They showed up at her house one sunny morning, delivering a new set of tools, vibrant seedlings, and a renewed sense of purpose.

That evening, Neil called Miri, his voice filled with awe. "You won't believe what happened today."

"What?" Miri asked, feigning ignorance.

"A gardening group showed up at my mom's house. They brought everything—plants, tools, even fixed up the old greenhouse. She was so excited, Miri. I haven't seen her smile like that in years."

"That's amazing," Miri said, her chest swelling with warmth. "Do you know who arranged it?"

"No idea," Neil said. "But whoever it was... they gave her a reason to keep going. She's already talking about growing vegetables and flowers again."

Miri smiled, keeping her secret to herself.

Far above, Lady Troissa watched the scene unfold through the celestial mirrors, her hands clasped tightly in joy.

"My Miri," she murmured, tears brimming in her eyes. "You're proving yourself more than worthy."

Lady Anastasia appeared beside her, her expression soft. "They're stronger than we give them credit for."

Troissa nodded, a quiet pride radiating from her. "Two down. One more to go."

Miri met Neil again the next day. This time, he seemed lighter, his smile more genuine.

"I owe you a proper thank-you for listening to me ramble about my mom the other night," Neil said, leaning against the park bench.

"Hey, what are friends for?" Miri replied, though her heart skipped at the word friends.

"I mean it," Neil said, his gaze steady. "You're special, Miri. I don't think I've told you that enough."

Miri blushed, brushing it off with a laugh. "Oh, stop. You'll make me cry."

But as Neil turned to watch the sunset, Miri's smile faded slightly. The rules of her mission meant that no matter how much she wanted to tell him the truth, she couldn't. Her joy had to remain invisible, her role a silent one.

"Two down," she whispered to herself. "One more to go."