The yellow paint on the walls of the kitchen seemed faded, dimmer. Sweat was building on my brow as I finished washing the dishes.

As I was drying my hands on my apron, I caught Rowan’s eyes through the window above the kitchen sink of our cottage. My eyes traveled down past his full lips to the sway of his hips. He approached confidently, with strong measured strides. His steps faltered for just a second, before his legs found their rythym again with a shake of his head.

I rushed to the door, throwing it open. He wrapped an arm around my waist and captured my lips with his. He didn’t stop until we both needed to come up for air. He pressed his forehead to mine and searched my eyes.

“How was your ride?” I asked, voice breathless. I hadn’t been able to visit the stables recently, with all of the preparation for this years harvest festival. Riding through the fields — with my hair tangling behind me— was like flying. I missed it.

“Fruitful.” The corner of his mouth pulled up as he pulled back. His hidden arm was thrust in front of me revealing the bouquet of flowers he was hiding behind his back.

“Row, they’re beautiful!”

“I picked them myself.” His smile brightened, revealing his dimple.

“You did such a great job,” I beamed, and watched as his eyes dropped to the soft smile on my lips. He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth before lowering to unlace his boots.

“I’m glad you like them, Laina.”

I moved to the kitchen to put them in some water. The further I got from him, the more disconnected I felt to reality.

I straightened my shoulders and shoved the feeling away, inhaling the scent of the colorful bouquet deeply before placing them on the counter. I reached into the cupboard above our stove, balancing on the tips of my toes, and grabbed the ornate vase he had found at the local market for me two years ago.

As I turned back around, I met his eyes again and a chill ran through my body. Ice spread from the base of my spine to the rest of my body. I couldn’t breathe. I felt my fingers loosen. Glass shattered at my feet causing me to jump, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his.

His eyes were _cold_.

He looked just as confused as I felt.

“A-alaina?” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been yelling for the past hour. A part of me — that felt miles away, watching us through fog — wanted to comfort him, but the indifference in my chest caught any words I would’ve uttered in my throat.

I shook my head and bent down to pick up the glass at my feet.

“Alaina.” He said once again, stronger now. There was an unspoken question in his tone.

I hissed as the glass pierced the pad of my finger. “I can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t. I have these memories that feel like they don’t belong to me. It feels like I’ve been watching a play for the past five years.”

He approached me, grabbing a towel from the counter and wrapping it around my finger. “So you didn’t do this,” he demanded, adding a little too much pressure to my wound.

“No!” I snatched my hand from his grip. _How dare he? _

He turned, grabbing the broom and dust pan, and huffed. “Well, it wasn’t me.”

I sat crouched over the glass, seeing bits of foreign memories from our lives in each shard of glass. I hadn’t realize I was crying, until the tears that tracked down my cheeks obscured my vision.

__

_Why was I crying? _

It wasn’t fair. It was like I was losing something that wasn’t mine to begin with.

I looked up at him, and he quickly looked away, busying himself with sweeping more glass from beneath the counter.

I cleared my throat, wiping the sleeve of my dress across my face roughly. “We should visit the seeker.”

The village seeker could use their _sight_ and give us more information, but I had a feeling I knew what happened.

Were we _drugged_? When? Who would gain from our match?

He looked at me again, mouth set in a firm line. “I’ll go prepare the horses.”

Looks like I’d be able to ride sooner than I thought.

“Are you upset?” I asked quietly.

He froze and then turned so abruptly I stumbled back a step.

“Of course I’m upset!” He shouted, chest heaving. “The last five years of our lives have been stripped away from us by someone who thinks playing a love god is more important than free will!”

“But weren’t the past five years good?” I paused, looking down at my slippers. “We loved each other.”

“That wasn’t us! That wasn’t our choice! That was _fraud_!”

“But—“

“There is no _but_, Laina!”

I looked out the window, at the grass swaying with the autumn breeze. He took a deep breath.

“Laina,” he started, softer. I held up my hand, stopping him.

I couldn’t hold it any longer. I was going to surprise him at the harvest festival. We had been trying for three years. I thought a couple more weeks wouldn’t hurt before telling him.

“I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed again.

“Let’s just go.” I couldn’t look at him anymore. I moved to the entry way and removed my apron, before replacing it with my riding cloak. I stepped into my riding boots and laced them up.

“But—“

“There is no _but_, Rowan.” I spat back at him.

His hands curled into fists and the muscles of his jaw ticked. He just looked at me for a moment longer before he led us away from the cottage. And I couldn’t find it in myself to look back.

How would we ever go back to the life we lived inside it?