Maya POV
After a long, chaotic day full of unexpected games, awkward team-building exercises, and mystery obstacle courses involving more mud than dignity, everyone finally scattered to their tents and cabins.
The Isle of Elaria had transformed into a soft dreamscape under the setting sun. The orange glow kissed the treetops while the ocean in the distance shimmered like a sheet of molten gold. Lanterns—actual floating ones—bobbed gently in the air, casting soft halos of warm light across the campsite. Somewhere nearby, a guitar played a mellow tune. Someone was singing off-key, but it somehow added to the charm.
"Lo, come on!" I said, nudging her with my foot as she lay sprawled on her cot like a crime scene outline. "There's this beautiful garden trail near the cliffside. The coordinator said it glows at night!"
"I glow at night, too, Maya. With pain." She didn't even open her eyes. "Every inch of my soul is sore."
I tried tugging at her sleeping bag. "It'll be magical! Maybe we'll spot a fairy. Or a shirtless guy doing Tai Chi. You never know with this place."
Lola cracked one eye open, narrowed it suspiciously, then groaned again. "Unless the shirtless guy is massaging my back with fairy dust, I'm not interested. I'm tired. Like emotionally, spiritually, 'don't-make-me-move-unless-it's-an-apocalypse' tired."
"You're always emotionally tired."
"And yet I still show up for you," she said, dramatically pulling the sleeping bag over her head. "Tonight, I show up by staying right here and dreaming about pizza."
I sighed. "Fine. But if I get abducted by magical creatures, I'm haunting you."
"Please do. But be useful. Haunt me with hot tea and snacks."
"Unbelievable," I muttered, grabbing my hoodie. "You'd ditch me for snacks."
"Correct."
Shaking my head, I stepped out into the soft night air, leaving behind the sounds of crackling firewood and my best friend's commitment to being aggressively horizontal.
I sighed even Lola, my always-up-for-anything best friend, had surrendered to exhaustion. She waved me off with a dramatic groan, already half-buried in her sleeping bag. "Go be a mysterious wanderer or whatever. I need to sleep before my legs file an official complaint."
I left the room with a chuckle even before my bestfriend kick me out of the room.
_________________________________
The Isle of Elaria was bathed in gold and violet hues, with sky lanterns drifting lazily above the treetops. It was like stepping into a fantasy novel's chapter titled "The Night Was Too Pretty to Be Real."
Everything glowed—the moss-lined path, the bluebells that lit up when I passed them, the soft floating lights that looked like fireflies trained in dramatic entrance-making. Somewhere, a harp played softly, though I couldn't see a soul.
I slowed near a garden archway draped in moonflowers, my eyes wide with awe.
Of course, this would've been perfect if Lola were here. She would've been making sarcastic commentary the entire time, like:
"Is that a plant or did a unicorn sneeze here?"
or
"Ten bucks says this garden turns into a murder maze by midnight."
Still... I needed this moment. The quiet, the magic, the not-tripping-over-goats peace.
It was beautiful in a way that made you feel small—in a good way. Fireflies blinked lazily between trees. The breeze was gentle, carrying the scent of fresh earth and something floral I couldn't place. The path was lined with hanging lights made of glass leaves that softly glowed. Every few feet, benches and wooden sculptures carved into mythical beasts appeared out of nowhere like secrets waiting to be found.
I wandered with no direction, brushing my fingers over soft petals and thick green vines. My thoughts were still tangled up in the day. And in him.
Him.
The guy I'd met in the café. The same guy I'd accidentally tripped over this afternoon. Twice in one day. I mean, the universe really needed to stop throwing him at me. Literally.
I stopped near a small pond, staring at the lily pads floating on the surface, and whispered, "Alright universe, what are you trying to tell me?"
That's when I heard it.
A soft ahem from behind.
I turned slowly, half-expecting it to be one of the coordinators telling me I was breaking some unknown nature rule.
But no. It was him.
Brown eyes. That familiar amused smile. Tousled dark hair. Arms crossed like he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on me and didn't plan to stop.
Why was he always catching me when I least expected it? And why was my stomach doing somersaults like it was in the Olympics?
"You again?" I said, trying to sound unaffected. Spoiler: I failed.
"Me again," he said with a lopsided smile. "I was walking and saw a figure dramatically admiring flowers. Thought to myself, Wow, that's very main character behavior. Had to check it out."
I rolled my eyes. "And what if I was having a private moment with the flowers?"
"Then I sincerely apologize to the flowers for interrupting."
I stifled a laugh. "You're ridiculous."
He walked closer, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie. Casual. Unbothered. Meanwhile, I was 90% sure my face was turning into a tomato.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced," he said, pausing just a foot away from me. "I'm Lucian. Just Lucian. Not a vampire, not a prince, and not selling anything."
I snorted. "That's a relief. The last guy who introduced himself like that was trying to sell me seaweed soap that smelled like sadness."
"Noted," he said with a grin. "And you?"
"Maya. Just Maya. Not a flower thief, not a yoga influencer, and definitely not stalking you. Even though it might seem that way."
"Oh good," he replied with mock seriousness. "Because I was beginning to wonder if you had a tracker on me."
"No, I just have excellent unlucky timing," I said with a smirk. "I think the island wants us to keep bumping into each other."
"Destiny," he whispered dramatically, waving his hand like he was casting a spell.
"Or just really bad GPS routing."
He laughed, and I hated how much I liked the sound of it.
We began walking along the path, side by side. The silence between us was...nice. Not awkward. Like we were characters in some laid-back indie movie with a soft folk soundtrack playing in the background.
"So," I said, sneaking a glance at him, "you here for the trip too? Or are you one of those cool guys who works behind the scenes—making people fall into mud pits and calling it team-building?"
Lucian chuckled. "Tempting offer, but no. I'm technically a guest. I've been here a few times. Sort of a... tradition."
"Ah, so you're the mysterious returnee. Like those characters in adventure movies who know all the secret tunnels."
He nodded. "Exactly. Except the only tunnel I know leads to the kitchen cabin, which I discovered while hunting for marshmallows at midnight."
I burst out laughing. "That's the most noble kind of quest."
"Thank you. I take great pride in my sugar-related heroism."
We stopped near a wooden swing hanging from a twisted tree. I pushed it gently with one finger, watching it sway.
"So what about you?" he asked, casually leaning against the tree. "What brings Maya the Flower Admirer to Elaria?"
I sighed, my voice softer now. "Needed a break. From… everything. Life, work, feelings. My best friend dragged me into this grand adventure idea. I thought it would be a disaster. But today was... oddly fun."
"Even the soup?"
"Especially the soup," I said with a grin. "Nothing like near-death seasoning to spice up your memories."
Lucian chuckled again, and I looked up to find him already watching me. The playfulness in his eyes faded into something gentler. Like he was trying to figure me out.
And suddenly, I felt that flutter again.
That thing. That unexplainable something. Like the moment before rain. Like the universe shifting its weight.
I quickly looked away. "You're staring."
"I'm observant."
I squinted. "You're suspicious."
"I've been called worse."
There was a pause. Then he added, "You're easy to talk to."
The words felt like a soft confession.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "You too. Surprisingly."
Lucian stepped back slightly, giving me space. "Well, Maya-no-middle-name, I think this might be our first non-accidental meeting. What do you say we make it official?"
He held out his hand again, this time with mock ceremony. "Hi. I'm Lucian. Lover of midnight marshmallows and unofficial map guide."
I smiled and shook it. "Hi. I'm Maya. Tripped-over-a-tree-twice survivor and reluctant soup warrior."
We stood there, hands still linked for a moment too long.
The air buzzed with something unspoken.
Then, just as quickly, Lucian let go and took a step back with a mischievous grin.
"I should go," he said. "Before I reveal any more of my secret identities."
"Oh, so there is something you're hiding."
He winked. "Guess you'll have to find out."
And with that, he walked away, disappearing into the golden mist of the garden path like some kind of plot twist.
I stood there, staring after him, heart racing for reasons I absolutely refused to admit.
Whatever this was—it had just begun.
Lucian's POV
Well.
That didn't go the way I expected.
And by that, I mean—I hadn't expected anything. Just a casual walk. A breath of cool night air. Maybe a moment to think before heading back.
But then there she was.
Again.
Head tilted, admiring flowers like she was writing poetry with her eyes. Lit up by the moon like she belonged to it.
And of course, I couldn't help myself.
The "ahem" was instinct. Tease first, regret later. That's the motto, right?
But the second she turned, with that half-glare and that "You again?" tone, something in my chest did a very inconvenient cartwheel.
She had this way of looking at me like I was suspicious and slightly annoying—but interesting enough to tolerate for a few more minutes.
Honestly, I deserved that energy.
The sarcasm, the suspicious eyebrow raise, the refusal to take me seriously—it was... grounding.
And kind of addictive.
She didn't know who I was. She didn't care who I was. She wasn't filtering herself to impress me or disarm me with flattery.
She just was.
Sassy. Curious. A little chaotic.
And she called me "main character energy" in a way that made me feel seen and mocked at the same time.
Gods help me, I enjoyed every second.
When I said "Just Lucian," I half expected her to flinch or hesitate like others sometimes do when they sense there's more beneath the surface. But Maya? She just smirked and matched it—"Just Maya." Like it was a game. A challenge.
I loved that.
And the way she kept up—banter for banter, sass for sass—it was like fencing with words. Except I think she might have stabbed me a few times and smiled while doing it.
I almost told her more.
Almost.
Something about the way she said she needed a break... the softness in her voice when she talked about life, work, feelings. The hint of exhaustion she tried to hide beneath all that fire.
I saw it.
Felt it, even.
And for a second, I wanted to say, Same.
But I couldn't. Not yet.
I'm not allowed to fall into conversations like that. Not where I'm from. Not with what I carry.
But gods, I wanted to keep talking to her.
She said I was staring.
She wasn't wrong.
But I wasn't just looking at her.
I was trying to memorize how she made me feel.
Uncomplicated. Human. Free.
She shook my hand like we were sealing a deal in a parallel universe where I wasn't a king and she wasn't carrying some invisible grief.
Just two people. Sharing moonlight, sarcasm, and stories about soup trauma.
Her hand in mine was warmer than I expected. Calloused slightly—real, not polished. Her fingers curled around mine and didn't flinch.
And I didn't want to let go.
So I held on a second longer.
Just a second.
Because too long would've been obvious. Too long would've been dangerous.
So I stepped back. Made a joke. Gave her the grin. The signature getaway grin.
And walked off.
But the truth?
I was the one being stalked now.
Not by her.
By the moment.
By the feeling.
By the undeniable fact that Maya wasn't just a passing interaction.
She was going to be something.
A chapter.
Maybe even a turning point.
And I had no idea what to do with that.
Maya POV
I watched him disappear into the misty path, his silhouette fading like a scene change in a movie I wasn't sure I'd agreed to star in.
Lucian.
Just Lucian.
Weirdly funny. Unexpectedly observant. Possibly allergic to taking things too seriously.
And, okay, fine—a little bit magnetic. But not in a falling head over heels kind of way. More like… interesting. Intriguing. The kind of person you want to figure out over shared bad coffee and sarcastic conversation.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
This whole trip was supposed to be about exploring the world. Finding myself. Checking off a few "main character moments" without actually being one. But now I had a name to go with the face that kept popping up in the most inconvenient, vaguely cinematic ways.
Still, this didn't feel like fate or butterflies or any of those dramatic rom-com things.
It felt like meeting someone… real.
Someone who didn't make me feel unacceptable in this society with my chaotic behaviour.
And that? That was rare.
With a small smile, I turned back toward the garden path, letting the night air settle around me. I could already hear Lola teasing me tomorrow for "wandering off and accidentally bonding with Hoodie Boy," but for once, I didn't mind the idea of telling her.
Maybe Elaria had more to offer than forced group games and chaotic soup.
Maybe, just maybe… it was the kind of place where something genuine could start.
Not a whirlwind.
Not a cliché.
Just a simple, slow friendship.
And honestly? That sounded like exactly what I needed.