I didn’t know what Hyraj told Mr Arl, but he didn’t bring up “hesale” again. Left quickly in the mornings and didn’t keep me around in the evenings. Well, that was fine. I was there to see Sisi.

It would be another month or so before they left or started to leave or whatever. I wasn’t exactly involved, so didn’t ask. The last month had already felt so long. A lot had happened, people pretty complicated.

Another week’s work finished.

Heavy rain building up through the day, I wasn’t sure if we’d do anything over the weekend. Normally, a bit of shopping, but that was more of an excuse to get out and walk around.

In the morning, I awoke to the rain’s gentle drumming. We weren’t going out. So I busied myself in the kitchen, helping with the breakfast, helping with the tidying up and cleaning, even helping with taking stock. The cook—whose name I still hadn’t learned, everyone calling her “Miss Cook”—was very happy to find out I could read, write, and do maths.

“Five tins, and had eleven tins at month start. How many a season? A year?” she asked, her thoughts coming out pretty concise.

Of course, it was hard to get over old habits, taking me a moment to remind myself of how the months and seasons and years worked here. “Six a month, eighteen a season, ninety a year?” I said, then worked backwards in my head, making sure I was right.

Her face scrunched up in a smile. “So quick, and they don’t work at the office?” she said, pointing at the paper.

I awkwardly smiled, thankful I could “avoid” her while writing.

“Call it a hundred,” she muttered, then turned to the cupboard. “What next….”

Busy all morning, I only ended up going back to our room when lunch was ready. We ate in silence, then I piled up our plates, ready to take them through to wash. On my way out, she spoke.

“That is it, I am visiting a neighbouring town,” she said.

I paused, turning to the window. The rain still fell; heavy, but not storming. “In this weather?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, I won’t be long,” I said, mentally putting off the chores I had planned to do.

But she said, “No need. It is quite a walk, so I shall stay at an inn there tonight, then return tomorrow after lunch. If the weather worsens, I may stay longer. Leave the key with the receptionist if I have not returned by Monday.”

I froze, mind blank. After a long second, I managed to say, “Okay,” and left, taking the plates through. Like a zombie, I slowly washed up. Ignored any sounds from the hall.

When I finally returned, the room was empty. She was gone. Looking around, I spotted the key on the table, and that broke me. Broke me out of my stupor, broke me down. My heart pounded, full of stupid anxiety.

Like she had left and wasn’t coming back.

Stupid, but, as stupid as I knew I was for even thinking that, I couldn’t stop the… dread. Bringing me right back to when I’d told her I was going to stay with Mrs Frinchen. This unhealthy attachment, not normal.

I let out a long breath, falling onto the bed, losing all strength. People were weird and it turned out I was no exception. Full of… contradictions. A clock that was painfully aware it pointed at the wrong time and couldn’t do anything about it.

What if she enjoyed being by herself so much she just didn’t come back?

Intrusive thought after intrusive thought popped in my head, taking advantage of any silence. What if something happened to her?

Deep breath in, deep breath out, I tried to settle my pounding heart. Didn’t work, but I tried.

I should have gone to help in the kitchen to distract myself. I could have done some laundry, which would have made me too tired to worry.

But I didn’t. I stayed on the bed, soon falling in and out of dreams, painful and fleeting dreams. Those kinds of dreams that felt so realistic that, when you woke up, you spent a moment still feeling the pain before it all slipped away, leaving you empty. Minutes became hours, countless dreams passing in front of my eyes, then the dreams stopped coming.

Lying on the bed, I felt numb. The shock of her suddenly leaving had worn off and I had run out of worrying. I turned onto my side, watching the rain. Lighter than earlier. Good, I thought, hoping Hyraj made it there safely.

Content to stay like that, I began to think other thoughts. Thoughts of her. I wondered when she started liking me that way, why she did, what she liked about me. It felt like… art. How someone could look at a painting and talk about it like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

What did she see in me that the mirror didn’t show?

I knew I, like, hated myself? I grew up in an orphanage where the adults were mostly white people, the celebrities mostly white people, the children and teachers at school mostly white people. I had to deal with people asking why I didn’t have a red dot on my forehead or why I ate beef. People called me exotic, described my skin colour as caramel, “joked” about me smelling like curry.

How could I not hate having a “heritage” I had no connection to? Like, even if I did date a guy with Indian roots, wouldn’t his family hate me for being nothing like I was supposed to be? Or would I have to pretend to be someone I’m not?

Not that that mattered any more…. Even if I did meet that goddess again and she offered to send me back, I didn’t want to go. A place I didn’t belong. At least here, I looked like I belonged….

I hoped the little ones back at the orphanage were doing okay without me.

Feeling the tears start, I sat up and took a deep breath. After calming down, I went out to help with dinner, anything to distract myself. So I helped cook, helped clean, then did some washing. Worked myself to exhaustion and a little more.

Even after sleeping half the afternoon, I slept easily. No energy left to toss and turn or think.

Morning broke with a trickle of sunlight, rays poking through the clouds now and then, a constant drizzle making up a background hum. First thing I did was look at the chair to see if Hyraj was awake, only to feel a chill run through me as I remembered she wasn’t here. At the least, that woke me up, hard to go back to sleep.

I went through the morning the same as yesterday, helping in the kitchen. The cook told me all about the importance of keeping things clean in this season, how things liked to spoil with all the moisture and heat, and how some of the staples harvested around this time were more prone to mould than when they were harvested in other seasons. Good lessons. She never asked about my past—or my future. A simple, like, trade? I helped her, she helped me.

It was nice to feel useful and it was nice to be “paid”. With Sisi, it was easy to look after her, but, since I was being paid, I wanted to make sure I earned it. With Hyraj….

I ate lunch in silence, still sitting on the bed. Even if she wasn’t here, in my mind, that was her chair. I knew she wouldn’t care, but I did. I grew up in a place that had these kinds of made-up rules that you just had to learn. That was Danielle’s chair, this was Naomi’s cup, Mel hated these TV presenters. Well, it was more of an issue when I was small. To a five-year-old, an angry fifteen-year-old was like a monster. When I was the fifteen-year-old, the other girls my age were just old puzzles I’d long since solved, knew what words to say and rules to follow. Didn’t want to be a “monster”, so always stayed calm with the little ones.

Losing myself in old memories, I didn’t know how long had passed when someone knocked on the door. “I’m bringing my plate now,” I loudly said.

“Okay.”

Half-way up, I froze—very much not the cook’s voice. A second, then I had to stop myself from running to the door. Hand shaking, I turned the handle, so full of nervous energy I felt like I could burst.

Standing there with a small smile, Hyraj said, “Pleased to be back.”

“Pleased you came back,” I said, meaning every word so sincerely.

I stepped out the way so she could come in, then quickly left with my plate. Honestly, I didn’t know why, just an impulse to, like, run away. As if afraid my heart would pop. It had only been a day, but it was such a relief nothing had happened. Really, I was like a puppy, going crazy after its owner came back from work.

But maybe this was okay. Remembering my time at the orphanage… it was a nice change to feel so full of joy I could burst. Well, as long as I didn’t actually burst.

The little time it took me to wash my plate (and a few other things) helped me to settle down. Once the suddenness of it wore off, I felt calm. It seemed like I was quite sensitive to surprises—the good and the bad.

Then I was back in the room and she was sitting at the table. It felt right. A pile of books joined her, four. She didn’t look any different. Her little journey hadn’t changed her—our journey hadn’t either. The same Hyraj I had met up in the mountain. All that had changed was what I knew of her… and me. I’d changed so much.

Yesterday’s thoughts flaring up, I wondered which me she liked.

Busy watching her, I stayed standing by the door rather than taking my usual place on the bed, and maybe she noticed, eventually looking over with a curious look. Her expressions were more relaxed around me now, so easy to read.

“Is something upsetting?”

I almost laughed, wondering how I looked that she was asking that. “No.”

She stared a moment longer, then turned to her new book.

I walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. “That is it… can I ask something?”

“Of course?” she said, a hint of confusion in her voice.

“When did you like me?”

She stilled, but only for a moment, then she neatly closed the book and settled into a more relaxed position. “The large answer?” she whispered.

“Please.”

After a deep breath, she began to speak, her voice soft, not much louder than a whisper, but still perfectly clear. “When we met, it is not clear to me. I remember it all in vague points. At first, I thought you were funning me, pretending you couldn’t speak, then you went through all that to show me maths? I was confused, but I realised you weren’t funning me.”

Pausing there, she turned to me with a smile I didn’t recognise and added, “Besides, I am weak to beauty,” before turning back.

While I was left reeling, she carried on. “I soon understood you were rescued by Alnaya. At least, that explained the situation. When I showed you magic, I was sure of it, how naturally you took to it, but I wouldn’t force you to do it because of that.”

“Naturally?” I said, blurting out my doubt.

She glanced over, meeting my gaze and raising an eyebrow. “Have I not said that I spent my childhood learning magic? I would call myself quite an atrocious teacher, yet you can hold a spell as if it is nothing.”

I froze at that, realising I had maybe misunderstood her annoyance all those times, upset with herself rather than me?

“Regardless,” she said, “I knew then I had a… duty to aid you. A duty, I told myself. A duty until that day.”

I knew which day. “The storm,” I whispered.

Her hand made the “yes” gesture. “That is it, there are many kinds of love. There is chission, which is to see beauty in someone. There is pelmion, which is to find joy in their laughter. There is even hischt, which is to find comfort knowing they are in good health.

“Then, when it comes to preference, it is not as simple as matching certain kinds of love. Or rather, preference is about how… the total of the love you have for a person is greater than the individual loves.

“I felt chission to you from the start. I soon felt comfortable around you, found pride in teaching you. I didn’t… I had thoughts of preferring you, but nothing I took seriously. I told myself I was simply lonely after travelling for so long.”

She sort of trailed off there, pausing for a long few seconds.

“It was… I felt friest with you—safe. That day. And when you said you… hurt, what I felt went beyond hischt. I did not realise until afterwards, though.

“To ask me when, the day after is when I knew, but all I can say is that I preferred you the day before the storm. That is it, do not think I feel this way out of gratitude for saving me. It helped me to realise my feelings and made me confident they were good feelings to cherish, but yes, before that day… I had more love for you than the total parts. While I still clung to my duty, it was no longer an obligation, but an excuse to hide my feelings.”

Turning to me, she had a soft smile.

“A little as we walked, a little as we talked, a little as I ate your food, a little as I watched you eat mine. It was a journey of little steps with no roads or signs to tell me when I crossed that line until long after.”

Her eyes—her gaze—felt so heavy right now. Not in a bad way, but like I couldn’t breathe. I glanced down. “My thanks for sharing,” I said, speaking kind of posh out of habit after listening to her.

“My thanks for coming into my life,” she replied.

Spoken like it was a passing comment and not such a beautiful thing. Really, had anyone been thankful for me being in their life before? Before I could break down, though, she had a question of her own.

“That is it, if I may, do you feel chission to me?”

I clamped down on my feelings and looked her in the eye again. She was asking if I found her beautiful? I didn’t really understand how chission was a kind of love, different to just beautiful.

Well, she’d asked, so I looked. Her face wasn’t flawless, not like she put on foundation and concealer every morning. Her hair, while in good shape, wasn’t going to compete with glossy shampoo and conditioner and straighteners (or curlers). Her eyes… it was easy to forget how beautiful they were, seeing them so much. I liked looking into them.

Still, despite only passing one-of-three “tests”… she was beautiful. More beautiful than the “total of her parts”? Was that what chission meant?

“I guess I do,” I said, sort of thinking aloud.

A smile bloomed on her lips at that, reinforcing my feeling. I had always hated whenever anyone said anything like, “You’d look prettier if you smiled,” but it was so true for Hyraj.