River of silent embers

The morning mist clung to the riverbank in thin drifting sheets as if the world itself was trying to hide something beneath its pale shroud. On the edge of a quiet town called Meriglow, where wooden houses leaned slightly over the water and fishing boats rocked gently at their moorings, a woman named Alina Crest stood with her hands resting lightly on the worn railing of a small pier. The wood was damp beneath her fingers. She listened to the faint hum of the water as it lapped against the posts and tried to steady her breath. She had returned to this place to outrun memories that refused to fade, yet the river still whispered things she wished she could forget.

Alina was tall with a graceful posture that had once belonged to a dancer. Her dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her eyes carried a depth that made people pause when they looked at her. Behind that depth were months of exhaustion, grief, and a relentless fear that something inside her had broken permanently. She had not told anyone in Meriglow about her past. No one knew about the accident that had taken someone she loved. No one knew the sound of shattering metal that still woke her at night. She hoped the river would cleanse her thoughts, but each morning it reflected her pain back at her like a quiet unblinking witness.

Footsteps echoed softly behind her. Alina stiffened but did not turn until the voice came.

Why do you always come out here when it is so early

The tone was curious, warm, and entirely unexpected. Alina turned her head and found herself staring at a man she had seen only from a distance. His name was Rowan Flint, a boat builder whose workshop sat near the mouth of the river. People spoke of him as a quiet man who preferred wood to conversation, a man with hands strong enough to shape entire hulls but gentle enough to repair the smallest cracked oar. Alina had never heard him speak to her directly until now.

Habit I guess she replied softly. The river is calm before sunrise. It helps.

Rowan studied her for a moment. He had a steady gaze that made her feel as though he was reading the spaces between her words. You do not look like someone who finds much calm he said.

Alina almost smiled. That is very blunt.

I work with timber all day he said. Subtlety is not something I am good at.

She found herself letting out a small breath, something close to a laugh. Rather than feeling offended she felt oddly seen. Yet she did not want to linger. She nodded, murmured a polite excuse, and walked away before he could ask anything else.

Rowan watched her go with a thoughtful expression. He had noticed her for weeks. Something in the way she held herself reminded him of driftwood softened by storms. She moved as though she expected something to crumble beneath her feet. He wondered what had brought her to Meriglow but decided not to pry. Still, as he looked at the water, he sensed that her arrival was the beginning of something neither of them understood yet.

***

Days passed with the gentle rhythm of small town life. Alina found part time work at a tiny bookshop tucked beside the river road. She organized shelves, dusted covers, and tried to lose herself in the stories that surrounded her. The elderly owner Ms Callia enjoyed her company but never pressed her to speak. It was a silent understanding that Alina appreciated.

Yet silence could only shield her so much, and Rowan seemed to appear wherever she least expected him. Sometimes he brought repaired chairs to the bookshop. Sometimes he strolled past the pier while she was there. Once he even offered her a piece of river stone he had found polished smooth by the water. It reminded me of you he had said quietly. Strong but shaped by something difficult.

Alina had not known what to say.

One evening as the sun dipped low, casting red gold light across the river, she found herself standing outside Rowan’s workshop. She had meant only to return a wooden bookmark he had carved for her as a joke, but when she looked through the open door she saw him bent over a nearly finished canoe. His movements were slow and deliberate, almost rhythmic. He sanded the curve of the wood with the same tenderness one might use to soothe a frightened animal.

Rowan looked up when he sensed her presence. You can come in if you want he said.

Alina hesitated. I did not want to interrupt.

You are not interrupting he answered. I like company sometimes.

She stepped inside, inhaling the scent of pine shavings and varnish. The room was warm, quiet, and strangely comforting. Rowan handed her a small brush and nodded toward the canoe. Want to help It is the final coat.

She blinked. I do not know anything about building boats.

You do not need to he said. Just follow the grain.

He guided her hand gently, his fingers brushing her wrist. The touch sent an unexpected tremor through her. For months she had avoided letting anyone close, afraid that if someone touched her they would feel the cracks beneath her skin. But Rowan’s touch felt steady, grounding, as though he could sense her trembling but chose not to call attention to it.

As they worked together, Rowan spoke quietly. People come to Meriglow for different reasons. Some arrive searching for something new. Some come running from something old.

Alina froze for a moment.

Rowan glanced at her. You do not have to tell me which one you are. But you do not have to pretend you are not hurting either.

Her breath caught in her throat. She set down the brush and stepped back, heart pounding. I should go she whispered.

Rowan sighed softly. I am sorry if I pushed too far.

It is not your fault she said, voice shaking. I just need time.

Then take time he answered.

She fled into the night before her emotions could spill over.

***

That night the nightmares returned with violent clarity. She heard screeching tires, felt the cold flash of metal against her arm, tasted the copper of fear. She woke gasping, drenched in sweat, clutching her chest as if her ribs were closing in.

By morning she looked pale and fragile. Even Ms Callia noticed. Dear, you should rest she said gently.

I am fine Alina insisted, though the words felt hollow.

When the shop closed for the day, Alina walked toward the river as she always did. But her hands trembled more than usual. She sat on the pier and pulled her knees to her chest, watching the ripples move in delicate rings.

She did not hear Rowan approach until he sat beside her.

You look like the river is carrying away all your thoughts he said softly.

She shook her head quickly. I do not want to talk about it.

Rowan rested his hands on the pier, allowing the silence to stretch. I lost my father on this river he finally said.

Alina turned sharply, startled.

Rowan shrugged. Storm caught us. Boat went under. I made it out. He didnt. For a long time I thought the water had taken everything I cared about. Could not work. Could not breathe. Each time I saw the river I felt angry at it for something it could not control.

Alina stared at him, her eyes widening as his words slowly unraveled the knots inside her.

It took years to accept that he said. But one day I realized something. The river did not hurt me. The river held my grief because I did not know where else to put it.

Alina felt tears pushing against her eyelids. She swallowed hard. I caused an accident she whispered. I was driving. My partner died. I survived. Everyone says it was not my fault. Wet road. A truck in the wrong lane. But it feels like my hands were the ones that destroyed everything. So I ran. I ran here and I hoped no one would see how broken I am.

Rowan leaned closer but did not touch her. You are not broken Alina. You are grieving. And grief is not a flaw.

Her tears slipped free, falling silently into the water below. Rowan allowed her to cry without offering any empty words.

After a long moment she whispered Please do not see me as someone tragic.

Never he answered.

Her breath shuddered. Thank you.

Rowan finally reached for her hand, slow and careful, giving her every chance to pull away. She didnt. For the first time since the accident, human touch did not feel like a threat. It felt like warmth.

***

In the following weeks they grew closer in ways neither had planned. Rowan taught her how to carve small wooden shapes. Alina brought him books she thought he might like. They shared meals on the steps of his workshop, shared thoughts by the riverside, shared quiet glances that grew heavier with unspoken meaning.

But comfort does not erase fear. One evening, as a storm built over the horizon, Alina felt the familiar anxiety tightening her chest. Thunder rolled in the distance and the memory of screeching wheels flashed behind her eyes. She walked quickly to Rowan’s workshop, desperate for steady ground, but found it empty. Panic rose in her throat. She rushed to the river and saw him out on the water securing his boats before the storm hit.

For a moment she froze. Then something inside her snapped.

Rowan she shouted.

He looked up and waved. It is safe. I am almost done.

It is not safe she cried, trembling. Come back. Please come back.

He rowed toward her and tied the boat quickly. When he reached the shore he saw the terror in her eyes. Alina what is wrong

I cannot lose someone again she said through gasps. I cant watch it happen. The storm the water it feels like everything is going to break.

Rowan stepped forward and pulled her into his arms gently but firmly. I am here. I am not going anywhere. You are safe. You are safe with me.

Her body shook as thunder cracked overhead, but Rowan held her until the trembling eased. The storm soaked them both but it did not matter. Something inside her shifted that night. She realized she was no longer standing alone on the broken edges of her past.

***

Weeks turned into months. Alina learned to breathe again. Rowan learned to let someone into the quiet world he had built. Their connection deepened with a depth born not of spark but of slow steady warmth that shaped itself around scars instead of ignoring them.

One crisp morning, as autumn painted the riverbank in shades of amber and rust, Rowan led Alina to the canoe they had finished together.

It is yours he said simply.

She stared at him in disbelief. Rowan I cannot accept this.

You helped build it he replied. And you learned to trust the river again. It seems right.

Her eyes softened. Then take me with you she whispered.

Rowan smiled gently. Always.

They pushed the canoe into the water and climbed in. Alina breathed deeply as the river carried them forward. For the first time since the accident she felt the sensation of moving without fear. Rowan paddled slowly, watching her with quiet admiration.

When they reached the middle of the river he set the paddle down. Alina looked at him curiously.

This is where everything changed for me he said. The place where I lost someone and learned to keep living anyway. And now it is the place where I want to tell you something.

Alina felt her heart pound.

You are not defined by what happened he said softly. You are not trapped in your past. And you do not have to face anything alone ever again. Not if you choose me.

Her breath caught. Rowan

I love you he whispered. Not because of your pain. Because of your strength in spite of it.

Alina felt warmth flood her chest. She took his hands, her voice trembling. I love you too. More than I thought I would ever be able to love again.

They leaned into each other as the river glimmered around them. The world was quiet. The water was gentle. The future no longer felt like a shadow.

For the first time in a long time the river did not feel like a place of loss. It felt like a promise.

A promise of healing.

A promise of hope.

A promise of silent embers that kept glowing even after the darkest storms.

And as the canoe drifted under the soft morning light, Alina realized that the river had not taken anything from her. It had simply waited patiently to return something she had forgotten.

Herself.