In Saving the Imperfect

11. And lead us to discover

"Malia?"

She sat facing the lake, silent. Layne took the rock beside her and noticed narrow streams of tears rolling down her cheeks. He regretted coming there.

"Didn't find you in the cabin," he said. "What's wrong?"

Malia opened her mouth as if she wanted to speak but only a loud sob escaped. She promptly hid her face in her hands and shook her head. Layne turned away from her and stayed silent.

They sat there. Just like that. All the way until the sun started setting. As much as he wanted to leave, it seemed as if she wasn't safe there all by herself, in her state. Or maybe that's just how he felt because this girl looked so much like a more grown-up version of Clarissa. The only thing lacking was those cheerful brown eyes.

She stopped crying, eventually. Yet, even then she refused to talk or even give him any sign on what she wanted him to do. Not that he expected anything else from her. So, they were there. Sitting on the rocks. Watching the reflection of the setting sun dance in red on the surface of the lake.

"Should probably head back." Layne gave her a smile. "Or Victor might find out we're still not in our warm pyjamas, all safely tucked in and sleeping."

Malia pressed the tips of her fingers onto her lips. Still, that didn't stop her from chuckling. She nodded and they got up.

There was no rush to get back. It'd still be a while before the sky turned dark and knowing that, Layne and Malia kept dragging their feet towards the village, time to time giving each other a playful push.

It wasn't until they were halfway there when Malia's face turned serious. "What did you do with the package?"

"Why'd you want to know?" He frowned. Talking about that thing could only make her upset again.

She shrugged. "Just interested. Forget it, I don't really care."

"I hid it somewhere."

"You didn't open it?"

"Who do you think I am?"

Malia let out a long breath. Layne wondered whether she was relieved or disappointed. Or both. "That's good."

"So I'm guessing that this Erick is not a great person, in general?"

The cabins where getting closer. They slowed down in order to prolong their conversation, which at least Layne didn't wish for others to hear.

"I don't know. I mean. He's my ex. People often just think bad of their exes, right? That's just how it works?" Malia's arms gestured through the air, as if she had a hard time expressing her thoughts with words only.

"Probably cause there's a reason they're an ex?" Layne suggested after a few moments of sorting out his thoughts. Why was every conversation with Malia so difficult?

"Well, yeah. It's because I'm here now and he's not."

He raised his eyebrows. "And that's it? Really?"

Malia's figure disappeared from Layne's peripheral vision. Upon looking around, he discovered her standing a few steps behind. Her lips were shaking, again, and she kept blinking rapidly.

Layne cussed in his head and stopped walking. "You don't have to answer that."

She shook her head. Soon enough, her whole body started shivering, her chest twitched with silent sobs escaping her.

"Malia, it's ok," he whispered, cringing inside from the stupidity of his own words. When has ever 'it's ok' made anyone feel better? Do people always say that because they feel obligated to say something? "We should get inside. You can sleep it off and feel better in the morning."