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Dalia?
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In a split second, nostalgia amalgamated with grief.
“No,” Ruth muttered softly, the grip around Dalia's body tightening, refusing with her life.“-no, no, no, no. This can't be happening.”
Dalia’s body trembled against hers, while Ruth was stiff from the fear, from the shock. Her friend would be burnt alive in a fire? What fate was this, how had it twisted, in ways so unpar with each other when they had clung so desperately, to each other, for years from the moment they met as kids.
Ruth’s heart stopped, and she withdrew from the woman’s hold, taking a step back. The bright smile on Dalia’s face fell, morphing into concern, but Ruth remained deathly still.
Until something in her broke, it shattered into this violent desperation. “Dalia!”
“Are you okay?” Dalia asked softly, taking a step forward.
When Ruth awakened, it was dawn. The sun promised to rise over the ravine. She felt the cold in her bones, shivering as she sat up, blinking away the sleep. Her eyes adjusted, and she saw Miron sitting, watching her.
“The ceremony.” She spoke, and her voice was a hoarse whisper, her eyes red with pain.
Miron looked away for a second. “My deepest apologies, Lady Ruth, but the ceremony must be over at this time. All the sacrifices have been made.”
She nodded, taking that in. It settled into her heart, shaking the foundations of her heart, of her soul.
A shaky breath escaped her.
“So…Dalia's dead?” And she asked the question, knowing the answer, but hoping against all hope that maybe —
“She's dead.” Miron confirmed, his eyes holding hers, honest.
“Did you hear her scream?”
Miron paused, wondering why Ruth was torturing herself with all this information.
“No.”
“But you heard the others?”
“As I was leaving with you, yes.”
“I could've saved her. If only I -”
“There's nothing you could have done, Ruth. Nothing.”
She was something of the essence of Moab's beauty, mocha skin, alluring hazel eyes, and a heart inflamed with passions— she was forever young in the memories Ruth held.
“I’m…okay.” Ruth said, a soft smile curving up her lips. “It’s just that your name reminds me of someone I used to love.”
“Oh,” Dalia nodded, letting that sink in. Her eyes welled with tears, and a pain struck her heart, but she blinked them back, gathering herself.
“Her name was also Dalia.” Ruth further explained, having missed the grief that flashed in Dalia’s eyes because she was looking down.
It pained her to be this weak in front of a stranger.
Dalia met her in a sudden embrace—gentle, yet firm. It was unexpected, like a quiet tide washing over the shore. Ruth froze at first, her breath caught between the past and present. The name alone had already sent a tremor through her heart, like an old wound stirring awake. But now, to feel arms around her—kind, steady, real—she wasn’t sure if she wanted to recoil or collapse into them.
YOU ARE READING
Ruth: Reimagined
Romance"I want you to belong to someone Ruth." Adira said, her voice softer. "I want you to be able to breathe in a world where everything is placed on a woman's chest, on her back and tied to her legs and then she's told to be beautiful, to be good enoug...
