Final Chapter

After finishing the last bite of her fruit, Serena rose carefully, her injured leg causing her to limp slightly as she made her way toward Alexander.

He was crouched by the fire pit, sleeves rolled up, muscles shifting under sun-warmed skin as he adjusted a portable grill. When he noticed her approaching, his expression immediately darkened.

“Sit over there,” he ordered flatly, his voice carrying that familiar authority.

Serena blinked, then obediently sat down on a nearby boulder. But when she noticed the fine sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, her heart softened. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small packet of tissues, and gently dabbed his brow.

Alexander stiffened at the unexpected touch. For a moment, the air between them stilled. Then he turned, the edge of a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

Not far away, Raphael—lounging lazily in the grass with Snowball chasing a stick—caught sight of the moment. A mischievous grin crept across his face as he discreetly lifted his phone and snapped a photo.

Framed by emerald trees and the soft gold of the afternoon sun, the two figures—Alexander and Serena—looked utterly at peace, their shared smile weaving a quiet tenderness that no one else could intrude upon.

The others, however, had long grown indifferent to Serena’s presence. Some busied themselves setting up tents, while others gathered firewood or unpacked food. Serena ignored the sideways glances and took up a small iron pot, settling it over a portable burner to make wild mushroom soup.

It didn’t take long before someone sneered from behind her.

“Are those mushrooms even safe? What if they’re poisonous?”

“Yeah,” another chimed in, wrinkling her nose. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. If someone dies, can you take responsibility?”

Serena calmly tossed another handful of sliced mushrooms into the pot, her tone steady. “Who said this is for you? Don’t worry—I wouldn’t let you have even a drop.”

“Who’d want to eat your food anyway?” one of them shot back, though their tone wavered slightly.

As the minutes passed, the air filled with a rich, savory aroma that drifted lazily through the campsite. The bubbling soup released notes of earthy mushrooms mingled with the clean scent of spring water. Soon, even the ones who mocked her earlier couldn’t help swallowing hard, suddenly disinterested in their cold boxed lunches.

Serena ladled a portion into a small disposable bowl and brought it to Alexander. “Try this.”

Alexander accepted it, skepticism flickering in his eyes. But the moment he took a sip, his brows lifted. The flavor was delicate yet deep—simple comfort wrapped in warmth.

He didn’t comment, but the way he drank it down said enough.

Serena served another two bowls, handing them to Raphael and Hugo without so much as glancing at the others.

Hugo grinned at the envious faces around him. Someone muttered, “Aren’t you scared she poisoned it?”

Hugo shrugged, tipping his bowl back. “If there’s poison, Alexander would drop first. I’ll take my chances.”

A ripple of laughter followed, and soon the four of them—Serena, Alexander, Hugo, and Raphael—were finishing their second helpings.

Half a pot still simmered over the fire, fragrant and golden. The others, unable to resist, began inching closer, bowls in hand. But before anyone could ask, Serena calmly lifted the pot, walked to the edge of the clearing, and poured the remaining soup into the dirt.

The gasps came instantly.

“Serena, what’s wrong with you?”

“You’d rather waste food than share?!”

“You’re heartless!”

Serena simply frowned, too tired to waste her breath arguing.

As twilight crept across the mountains, she retreated a few paces from the noisy group, sitting by a rock where the trees whispered quietly overhead. Alexander was still with Hugo, studying a map spread across a camping table, their heads bent close in discussion about which trail to explore for wild fruit the next morning.

Just then, her phone vibrated. A message appeared from an unknown number:

[Serena, follow the small path to your right. Walk about six hundred feet. Meet me there.]

It was signed: Cornelius.

Serena’s brow furrowed. There was a hot spring near the campsite, and a few of the women had been talking about bathing there later. That gave her an excuse.

She walked over to Alexander. “I’m going to take a bath at the hot spring.”

He barely glanced up, folding the map. “Be careful.”

Serena nodded, her heart thudding slightly as she turned away. The night air had cooled, carrying the earthy scent of pine and damp soil. The path she followed was narrow, lined with tall ferns and whispering leaves that brushed her arms as she walked.

After about six hundred feet, the voices of the group faded behind her, replaced by the rhythmic murmur of crickets and the rustle of wind.

Then—just ahead—a shadow stirred.

Someone sat on a large rock, the moonlight spilling over their shoulders.

Serena stopped in her tracks. It was him.

Cornelius.