Chapter Five

Celeste stirred awake to the sound of persistent knocking.

Groaning, she glanced at the clock—12:04 p.m.

Another knock.

Then, a voice. “Celeste! Open up before I start climbing through your window.”

She forced herself up, still groggy and emotionally wrung out. Yesterday felt like a scar stretched too tight over her chest. Her limbs were heavy, her thoughts sluggish.

The knock came again—more impatient this time.

With a sigh, she cracked open the door.

Victoria didn’t wait for permission. She stepped in with a burst of bright energy and the faint scent of sunscreen and lilacs. “Get dressed,” she ordered cheerfully. “We’re going to the park. I’ve already decided. There’s a flea market. A picnic. Sunshine. Human interaction. Fresh strawberries. Take your pick.”

Celeste blinked. “I don’t—”

“Nope. No excuses. It’s too beautiful outside to waste it sulking indoors like a Victorian ghost bride.”

Celeste opened her mouth to argue, but Victoria was already rifling through her closet.

Half an hour later, they were walking beneath tall trees painted gold by the early afternoon sun, winding through the colorful rows of flea market stands. The scent of kettle corn and citrus hung thick in the warm breeze, mingling with bursts of laughter and the hum of soft acoustic guitar being played near the benches. Laughter rippled through the crowds, kids weaving between tables with sticky fingers and tangled hair. The whole park buzzed with life, a steady hum that wrapped around Celeste like a blanket she knew she had been missing out on, but never admitted it.

She walked beside Victoria, a berry-stained napkin crumpled in one hand, the juice of a ripe blackberry still on her tongue. They wandered slowly, shoulder to shoulder, pausing to examine charms and baubles and fresh-cut soaps. Victoria making commentary on the items laid out on the tables, and some of the outfits the other people wore around.

Celeste wasn’t really listening, but she wore a small smile.

Not the forced kind she wore at work, not the hollow twitch of politeness—this was real. Soft and easy. It rose from her chest like something surprised to be there.

They stopped at one stall that sold cartons of fresh berries—blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, all bursting with color. Victoria insisted on buying one of each.

Celeste couldn’t stop herself from smiling when a tiny kid ran past them with jam-smeared cheeks and a half-eaten scone in hand.

They wandered from table to table, Victoria pointing out odd little trinkets and holding them up dramatically like they were priceless treasures.

“Look at this! A candle that smells like thunderstorms. I don’t even know what that means, but I want it.”

Celeste chuckled, real and light.

They reached the tables with handmade charms and jewelry—sun catchers and pressed flower pendants, wire-wrapped crystals and rings shaped like leaves and vines. It was delicate work, humble and full of care.

Celeste drifted toward the edge of the display, her gaze catching on something small and silver.

It was a charm.

A crescent moon nestled in faintly clouded glass, with three tiny snowflake crystals dangling from the edge like frozen stars.

She reached out, fingers hovering just above it, heart tightening.

WinterMoon.

Her home. Or… the home she left behind.

The sound of the crowd softened behind her. The music faded.

That charm—that moment—was WinterMoon.

The night skies. The quiet hush of snowfall on the hills. The scent of pine and frost and something wild. It was the silence of the woods and the hum of belonging.

Her throat tightened.

The warmth she’d felt only moments ago didn’t vanish—but it dimmed. The edges of it curled in on themselves. She didn’t touch the charm. She didn’t have to. Just looking at it made something in her chest ache in that too-familiar way.

Regret. Longing. A homesickness that wasn’t just about a place—it was about who she used to be when she lived there. Before everything fell apart.

She blinked back the sting in her eyes and took a slow breath.

Behind her, Victoria answered a call. “Hey,” she said into the phone. “Yeah, we’re still at the market… no, it’s been really good. Bought a lot of berries.” Victoria laughed as she tried to tell them about everything she bought.

Celeste let the sound wash over her as she stared at the charm for a moment longer, then gently stepped away from the table.

The laughter of children returned. The music picked up again. The sun felt warm on her face.

She wasn’t home. She wasn’t healed.

But for just a little while, she wasn’t completely lost either.

And that, she told herself, was enough for today.

**

Victoria stepped a few paces away from the charm table, cradling a basket of fresh berries as her phone buzzed in her bag. She pulled it out and answered with a casual, “Hey.”

Her brother’s voice came through low and even. “Just checking in. You vanished after breakfast.”

“I had a plan,” she said with a grin, weaving between a pair of kids chasing bubbles. “It’s too perfect a day to waste, so I came to the park. There’s a flea market going on.”

“I should’ve known you’d end up somewhere chaotic.”

“Color, sunshine, and kettle corn. What more could I want?”

He gave a soft huff on the other end, and she could almost picture the amused shake of his head.

“You free later?” he asked. “Dinner?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“Pack business,” he said simply. “A few things I want your input on before the gathering next week.”

Victoria let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, responsibility. Fine. Where?”

“I’ll text you the place.”

“Make sure they have dessert.”

“They always do.”

She smirked. “You know me well.”

“Unfortunately.”

She laughed and glanced back toward the charm table where she’d left Celeste browsing. “Alright. See you tonight.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I make no promises.”

He ended the call, and Victoria tucked her phone away, eyes already scanning the crowd until they landed on her friend again. With the breeze tugging gently at her hair and the sunlight spilling through the trees above, it felt like—for once—everything was quietly, beautifully okay.

**

After a long while sitting under the oak tree, letting the breeze kiss their skin and the market sounds carry on around them, Celeste finally spoke.

“I think I’m ready to head back,” she said, her voice low but steady.

Victoria glanced at her, searching her face—not to question her decision, but just to check that she was really okay.

Celeste managed a small, genuine smile. “But first… I want to go back to that table.”

Together, they returned to the charm booth.

Celeste stepped up to the table and found the little silver moon with the snowflake crystals still waiting where she’d left it. It shimmered like fresh frost in the sunlight. Her hand trembled just slightly as she reached for it again—but this time, she didn’t hesitate.

She bought it in silence, gently folding the charm into the small velvet pouch the vendor offered.

When she turned back to Victoria, there was something softer in her eyes. A quiet kind of tired. But also a warmth.

“Thank you for today,” she said. “Really. I didn’t realize how much I needed… this.”

Victoria gave a half-smile. “I’m glad you came.”

Celeste nodded. “But I think I’ve had enough for one day.”

“Of course.”

“I just… want to be home. You know?”

Victoria didn’t push. She understood—this kind of day could be healing, but it also took energy Celeste hadn’t had to give in a long time.

“I’ll walk you partway,” she offered, but Celeste shook her head gently.

“No, it’s okay. I need the walk. I think I want to be alone with my thoughts for a little while. But I’ll text you when I get in.”

Victoria watched her carefully, then nodded. “Alright. But don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

Celeste tucked the charm into her pocket, turned, and began walking away from the heart of the market. The crowd thinned as she moved through it, the late afternoon sun casting gold across the pavement, across her shoulders.

She didn’t look back.

And Victoria didn’t call after her.

Because she trusted her to make it home.

And because she knew—sometimes the quietest goodbyes were the ones that mattered most.