Chapter 251

Olivia

The square was buzzing with activity when Angela and I returned to the food drive.

The sun was high, casting long, playful shadows that danced with the rhythm of the breeze. White tents were erected everywhere, each fluttering with the symbol of the town—a mighty oak tree—stitched onto them.

The scent of warm food, a mix of spices and fresh produce, filled the air, making my stomach growl in response.

Determined to make a difference, Angela and I headed straight back to our designated station, nestled between a stand handing out clothing and another offering warm beverages.

I glanced over, seeing Mrs. Parker dishing out cups of steaming soup to children who watched with wide-eyed wonder. Beside her, Mr. Roberts was busy entertaining them with tales of ancient legends, his deep baritone voice creating an atmosphere of mystique.

“Ready?” Angela asked, nudging me slightly.

“Ready,” I confirmed, my voice sounding more confident than I felt.

We got to work immediately. The process was systematic: fill the bag with essential items, hand it over, and offer a reassuring smile. Time seemed to blur as the line of people in need grew and ebbed. Each face told a story. Stories of loss, hope, resilience, and sometimes, mistrust.

I was engrossed in my work when a gentle voice pierced my focus. “You’re doing a good job, dear.”

I looked up, meeting the eyes of an elderly woman. Wrinkles adorned her face like intricate lacework, her eyes soft but with a glint of steel.

“Thank you,” I replied, handing over her bag.

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You know, child, I have grandchildren. If someone threatened them, I’d move heaven and earth to protect them. I’d even start a war.”

I blinked, taken aback by the raw intensity in her words. “T-Thank you,” I said again, my voice shaking with emotion.

She nodded, patting my hand with her gnarled fingers. “Don’t let them get you down. Some of us know the truth.”

The day wore on, each encounter adding layers to my understanding of the community. Some shied away, their mistrust palpable. Others whispered words of encouragement. It was a mosaic of human emotions, a vivid tapestry of reactions to adversity.

Angela was a rock beside me. Whenever I faltered or was met with hostility, she’d step in, her voice carrying authority and understanding. I was glad to have her by my side.

The hum of activity was momentarily broken by the hush that spread across the square. I looked up, following the gaze of many in the crowd.

The regal figure of Elder Amara approached, her posture impeccable, her steps measured. The very air around her seemed to pulse with authority.

Unlike the rest of us, who wore the dirt and grime of hard work, Amara was immaculate in her deep blue robes, the edges embroidered with gold. A walking stick, with a jewel that glinted ominously in the setting sun, accompanied her. Every step was calculated, every glance was purposeful. Her entourage moved in sync with her, their steps echoing hers, their faces equally stern.

People straightened instinctively as she passed, their gestures more rehearsed, their voices lowered to reverent whispers. It was as if the entire square held its collective breath in her presence.

She made her way through the stalls, occasionally pausing to point out something or make a comment. Even from my vantage point, I could sense the trepidation of those she interacted with.

As fate would have it, her path brought her closer to where I sat. I could feel my heart rate quicken, my palms becoming clammy despite the day’s heat. Angela, sensing my anxiety, gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

Amara’s piercing gaze finally settled on me. She scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “And what are you doing here?”

I stood up straight, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. “Helping out at the food drive,” I replied evenly, “like a good citizen.”

Her laughter was a chilling sound, devoid of warmth. “One measly food drive isn’t going to change what you are, Olivia. You can’t erase your treachery and selfishness by playing at charity.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the stares from those around us. But I held my ground, the fire of indignation fueling my resolve.

Before I could reply, Angela interjected, her voice calm yet assertive. “She’s doing more than her part, Elder. Isn’t that what we should all be striving for?”

Amara regarded Angela with a mix of surprise and annoyance. “This isn’t your place to speak,” she snapped.

“It is when it concerns my friend,” Angela retorted.

Amara’s eyes flashed, but she merely smirked. “Very well. Enjoy your… charity work.”

With that, she turned on her heel, her entourage following suit, leaving behind a wake of murmured conversations and uneasy glances.

I let out a groan, the tension in my body releasing all at once. “Why does she have to be so…?”

Angela chuckled, “Intimidating? Overbearing? Bitter?”

“That’s nicer than I was going to put it,” I said with a sigh.

Angela leaned closer, her voice low. “You know why she acts that way, right? It’s because she feels threatened by you. For all her status and power, she sees something in you that she lacks. Same goes for the rest of those awful Elders.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Authenticity,” Angela replied. “You’re genuine, Olivia. You act out of concern for others, not for personal gain or to maintain an image. That’s more valuable than any title or fancy robe.”

I blinked, absorbing her words. “Thanks, Angela. That means a lot.”

She shrugged, “It’s the truth. Besides,” she continued, her gaze following the retreating figure of Elder Amara, “I haven’t seen any of the Elders lifting a finger to help today. They’ve just been barking orders, making themselves look busy while others do the work.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Angela winked. “It’s a gift. Now, come on. We’ve got more people to help.”

…

The sun began its descent, casting a golden hue over the square, transforming it into a scene straight out of a painting. Shadows stretched, making the tents appear larger, more imposing. I could feel the weariness settling in my bones, every muscle protesting.

“Take a break,” Angela urged, pushing a cup of soup into my hands. “You’ve earned it.”

I hesitated but finally nodded, moving away from the stand. Finding a quiet spot near a large oak tree, I sat down, allowing myself a moment of reprieve. I sipped the soup, the warmth spreading through me, soothing my frayed nerves.

In the distance, children played, their laughter ringing pure and untainted. Families huddled together, drawing strength from one another. The community, though fractured, was trying to rebuild, trying to heal.

Lost in thought, I didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right in front of me.

I looked up, and time seemed to slow. Nathan stood there, bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. His once pristine white shirt was now stained with sweat and dirt, evidence of a hard day's work.

But it was his eyes that held me captive. They shimmered with intensity, reflecting a world of emotions. The sun highlighted the contours of his muscles, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

Our gazes locked, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The noise, the crowd, the weight of the world on our shoulders—all of it disappeared.

“Hey, love,” he said gently. “Miss me today?”