Chapter 5 THE SPACE BETWEEN US.

Helena hadn't meant to dream about him.

Not like that.

But the image of Elias standing beneath the scorched willow tree, his hand outstretched to hers, had followed her into the morning. In the dream, he smiled - soft, almost broken - and whispered, "You have to trust me."

When she woke up, her pillow was damp.

The strange thing was... she wanted to trust him.

Even now, with the unanswered questions swirling like smoke.

The next few days passed quietly. They didn't search the ruins, didn't question anyone. Helena needed space - and Elias respected it.

But by the third evening, she found herself walking toward the little café near Main Street, the one with the blue shutters and a crooked bell over the door. She didn't even know why she went. Until she saw him through the window - sitting alone, his hair a little messier than usual, tapping the rim of his coffee cup.

And her heart reacted before her brain could reason.

She went inside.

Elias looked up as the bell jingled. His eyes lit up. "Hey."

Helena gave a small smile. "Hey."

He stood, pulling the chair opposite him. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I didn't think I would either."

They sat in a silence that wasn't awkward - just thick, like a story waiting to be told.

"I missed this," he said quietly. "Talking. Being around you."

She looked down at her hands, then up at him. "I don't know what this is between us, Elias."

"I do," he said gently. "But I'll wait until you see it too."

Helena's breath caught.

She hated how easily he said things like that. Hated how her heart leaned forward every time.

"I'm still trying to figure out who I am without everything that burned down with my house."

He reached across the table, not touching her, but close. "You're still you, Helena. The strongest person I know."

The bell chimed as someone left, and for a moment, they were alone in the golden quiet of the café.

And she realized... she didn't want to leave just yet.

Later, as they walked toward her house under a sky smeared in soft pink, Elias slipped his hand into hers. She tensed - then slowly relaxed.

"I remember coming here once," he said suddenly, pointing toward a rusted gate near the edge of the woods. "When we were kids. You climbed that fence to chase a fox."

Helena laughed. "I fell flat on my face."

"And you cried for maybe ten seconds before yelling at the fox for making you fall."

They both laughed.

The warmth between them was fragile, but real. Like something still healing.

Helena let their hands stay linked.

That night, she couldn't sleep.

The moonlight spilled through her window, painting silver stripes across the floor. She sat at her desk, the folder of old documents open before her. She wasn't looking for clues anymore - not tonight.

She was looking for pieces of her father.

A torn photo. His signature. A handwritten note on a supply form: Delay shipment. Not safe yet.

Not safe.

Those words felt like a warning echoing across time.

A knock startled her.

She pulled on her sweater and opened the door.

Liam stood there, holding something behind his back.

"I was just... thinking," he said, a little breathless. "I found this earlier today, behind one of the fallen beams. I thought it was junk at first, but then I saw the name."

He held it out.

A key. Old, rusted. A red tag still dangling from it with the letters "AV–02" scrawled across it in faded pen.

"AV," she whispered. "My dad."

"I thought it might lead to something."

Her fingers closed around it.

"I'm not sure what it opens," Elias said. "But I can help you find out."

She looked up at him.

And suddenly, her fear softened.

Maybe, just maybe... they could find the truth together.

The next day, they followed the old trail behind her father's workshop, the one that led into the woods. The air smelled of pine and damp earth. Birds chirped above, but the deeper they went, the quieter it got - until it was just the two of them and the wind.

Then she saw it: a tiny shack almost swallowed by vines.

"This was his," Helena whispered. "He used to come here when he didn't want to be found."

The lock on the door matched the key.

Her hand trembled slightly as she slid it in.

Click.

The door creaked open.

Inside, the room was surprisingly clean - dusty, but untouched by fire. Shelves lined the walls. Old blueprints. Maps. Books.

A file sat on a desk in the corner, half-open. She stepped toward it, but Elias gently caught her hand.

"Wait," he said softly. "Before we go any deeper... I need to ask. Are you okay with this? With us doing this together?"

Helena looked at him, really looked.

There was something in his eyes - not fear, but guilt. Regret.

Or maybe she was just seeing what she expected to see.

"I don't know what I'm okay with yet," she admitted. "But I'm not ready to do this alone."

He nodded, letting her go.

She opened the file.

Inside: letters.

Her father's handwriting. Neat. Purposeful.

One stood out - addressed to someone named Kellan Hayes.

Her fingers went cold.

That was Elias's father.

Elias hovered behind her, but didn't speak.

She read the first few lines.

"Kellan, I told you before - I won't approve that extension. It's unsafe. Your crew is rushing the job. If you keep

pushing, I'll report you."

She stopped reading.

Her hands shook, but she carefully tucked the letter back inside.

Was this the fight that started everything?

Was this why someone lit the fire?

She turned around, her voice quiet. "Did you know your father was pressuring mine?"

Elias's expression darkened. "No. But I knew they didn't get along."

Helena stared at him. "Do you think he had something to do with the fire?"

He hesitated. Then: "I don't know anymore."