Part 4: Still Waters

The air had started to cool with the coming of autumn, the vibrant colors creeping into the leaves like a secret waiting to be discovered. Morgan spent her days reading old books by the fireplace, taking long walks by the water, and working on her knitting, though her fingers occasionally fumbled through the yarn. It felt good to be unhurried, as if the frantic pulse of the world outside had softened just enough to make room for her to breathe.

But there were nights when the silence grew heavy. Those nights, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she didn’t leave the cabin this time. If, maybe, she stayed until the edges of who she’d been wore away completely. Could she shed the remnants of grief that clung to her like the leftover fog in the morning air?

Luke hadn’t been around as much. He’d taken to fishing further down the lake, where the waters were still and deep. His presence had become a quiet comfort in her daily rhythm, but now it felt like the distance between them was widening.

One evening, the door creaked open. Morgan didn’t need to turn to know it was him. She could feel the shift in the room, the subtle change in the atmosphere. He didn’t say anything right away. Neither did she.

“I’m going,” he finally said, his voice steady but soft, as though testing the words before they settled into something real. “I’m taking the boat out tomorrow morning, across the lake. I’ll be gone a few days. Clear my head.”

She didn’t look at him, not immediately. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“Yeah.”

She nodded, though her heart beat a little faster. This was what she’d expected, the slow untangling of their connection, the easy way things could end when they had never truly begun. The absence of words made it more real than anything else. She didn’t feel the urge to stop him, didn’t feel the need to ask for explanations that wouldn’t change anything.

“Okay.”

He lingered in the doorway, watching her, but there was no more to say. He hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t asked her to come with him.

And Morgan didn’t expect it. She’d made peace with that part of herself long ago—the part that believed you could love someone, and still let them go.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, his voice like an echo.

She offered him a tight smile, her hands folded in her lap. “Take care of yourself.”

He nodded, disappearing into the night without a sound.

The following days stretched long and quiet, with only the sound of the wind sweeping across the lake. Morgan kept to her routine: a walk to the far end of the lake, checking the cabin’s maintenance, going to bed early. She had learned to appreciate the quiet, even when it pressed in on her thoughts, even when it reminded her of the moments that hurt. The days passed without much else changing, the world beyond the trees and water blurring into an indistinct backdrop.

But one morning, as she walked the same path down by the water, something was different. The stillness was gone. The lake shimmered like glass under the sunlight, but it was the canoe—Luke’s canoe—that broke the calm.

He was back.

He had been gone longer than expected, and it was obvious from the way he looked—eyes tired, face weathered—that something had changed during his time away. But instead of standing at the shore to greet her, he sat in the boat, holding the paddle loosely, looking at her as though he had been waiting for her to arrive.

“Morgan,” he called softly, almost as if he hadn’t quite decided whether to say anything at all.

She stepped closer, feeling the gentle breeze pull at the hem of her jacket. “You’re back.”

“I should’ve come sooner,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the water. “I needed time to think. But I wasn’t sure what I was looking for.”

She smiled, but there was something tender in her expression. “I understand. Sometimes, you just need a little distance to see things clearly.”

He nodded, and for a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air between them.

“Do you ever think you’ll leave?” Luke finally asked, his voice low but steady.

Morgan considered it, her eyes on the lake’s endless horizon. “Maybe. But not today. Not yet.”

Luke shifted in the canoe, pulling himself closer to the shore, his eyes watching her as if they were both trying to figure out what they had, what could still be. “It’s a strange thing, isn’t it? To feel so close to someone, and yet... to wonder if they’ll ever really be part of your life.”

She didn’t answer right away. She didn’t need to. The weight of their shared silences spoke louder than words could.

“I’m not asking for promises, Morgan,” Luke said, his voice softening. “Just... to be here. To not keep running away.”

She looked at him, the softness in his expression pulling something tender from her heart. She hadn’t realized until now how much she had missed his presence. But there was still so much about herself that she was untangling, so much that was still broken.

“I’m here,” she replied, her words careful. “I’m not running away anymore. But I don’t know what’s next.”

Luke pushed the canoe further to the shore, stepping out of it and reaching his hand to her. She looked at it for a long moment, as if considering. Then she took it.

“Let’s just see where the water takes us,” she said softly, a flicker of something tentative between them.

And for the first time in months, Morgan felt a new beginning in the air, the kind that wasn’t about forgetting the past, but embracing what it had taught her.