4- Time To Depart

But here’s the thing about summer—it never really lasts, does it? The parties thinned out, and the laughter came in smaller bursts. Suddenly, everyone was talking about plans: college, jobs, maybe even moving to the city. The magic of Mahdfel started to fade, slipping away before Autumn could hold on tight enough.

By August, Mahdfel felt like a ghost town. Every day, another friend posted a photo from a dorm room or a highway packed with suitcases. Autumn hugged people goodbye so many times she lost count. The ones left behind were mostly younger kids still dreaming about someday, not quite ready to chase it yet.

Autumn and Maddy sat in the old diner booth one night, splitting fries and watching the rain streak the windows.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Maddy said. “Everyone’s leaving. Even Eli’s talking about Terra or moving even further away.”

“Yeah,” Autumn replied, stirring the ice in her Coke. 

“But Calvin’s not going anywhere. He keeps saying he’ll stay. Plus, his parents have the law firm—he’s basically Mahdfel royalty.”

Maddy smiled. “As long as you two are here, it won’t be too bad.”

What Autumn didn’t say: All she could think about was Calvin’s mom catching them in the grass that night, with her only wearing a red, blood-thin lace bra. Mrs. Walters’ watery green eyes met her with a knowing look that made her feel insignificant and very small. But Calvin never mentioned it. He carried on as normal, still showing up at the beach, sending her memes every morning, and promised they’d figure out the distance thing if it ever came to that. She clung to that hope.

And then, out of nowhere, what she feared came to fruition; the bottom dropped out.

Autumn was in the kitchen with Auntie Rose, elbow-deep in peach juice, trading stories about the world’s worst pie disasters. “Remember at the annual festival when the crust caught fire?” Auntie laughed.

“Don’t remind me!” Autumn groaned, just as the knock came at the door.

She wiped her hands, expecting the mail. Instead, there stood Calvin.

"Calvin?" Autumn's voice trembled as she swung open the door, her hand still clutching the faded brass knob. There he was, framed in the porch light, his face shadowed with sorrow, suitcase clutched so tightly his knuckles shone white. For a split second, hope flared inside her—maybe he just needed a place to stay, maybe everything was fine. But the way he looked at her, with eyes of a child, not reflecting his age, told her everything. "Come in, quick," she whispered, barely trusting her own voice.

He lingered on the threshold, the suitcase trembling in his grip. His eyes, rimmed red and puffy, looked as though he'd been fighting tears for hours. He tried to piece together a smile, but it fell apart before it could reach his lips, leaving only a raw, unguarded ache in its place.

“Calvin?” Autumn asked, already bracing herself.

 He forced a joke. “I come bearing bad news—and my timing couldn’t be worse, it looks like it might storm.” His voice cracked, and Autumn’s stomach twisted painfully. She knew, with the certainty that comes in the quiet before a storm: this wasn’t just another goodbye. This was the kind of moment that splits a life into before and after.

  “Calvin?” she said, her voice worried.

  He stepped inside, glancing at the familiar kitchen. “Hey, Autumn.”

  Something in his tone made her chest tighten. “What’s going on?”

  He wavered, then the truth spilled out in a rush. "We're leaving. Today. Dad got an emergency at the law firm in the city—we're moving. Right now. No time to pack but what I have in my hand, no time for goodbyes either."

 She blinked, stunned. “You’re moving? Now?”

 He nodded, Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled to swallow.

"Why so suddenly? What reason did your parents give you?" She asked urgently. "Did have to do with your mother seeing us together that night?"

"No, I don't think so. But I tried to tell them I didn't want to leave without you. I tried to fight it. I begged Dad to let you come with us, but—there's not enough room on the plane."

"Calvin, this doesn't make any sense. You say all the time that your dad knows everything. So, what's the reason for leaving? He must have told you."

He thinks it's best if we..." Calvin’s words trailed off, breaking on a sob as he sank to his knees on the worn welcome mat. "If I let you go."

 Autumn felt the floor tilt beneath her. “You mean… end things? So, you're really going to leave without me?”

 Calvin looked miserable. “I don’t want to. I really don’t. But I guess… It’s what my dad wants. And he says it’ll be easier for you, too.”

Autumn swallowed the ache in her throat, forcing steel into her words. "It's fine. Really. Maybe deep down I always knew—some stories aren't meant for happy endings. Auntie needs me here. She raised me after Uncle Ray passed. This is where I belong, even if it hurts more than I can say. I don't know what I was thinking anyway."

Calvin reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. “I wish things were different.”

She managed a brittle, small smile, removing her hand from his grip, even as her heart splintered. “Me too.”

He hugged her, lingering, as if he could memorize the feeling. “You’ll be okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

He pulled away, hesitating for a heartbeat as if memorizing her face, then turned and stepped into the gathering darkness. Autumn stood rooted in the doorway, vision swimming with tears she refused to let fall. She watched the last fragile thread of her summer—and maybe the last piece of her old self—unravel into the night.

The days after Calvin left were slow and strange. Mahdfel was quieter than ever. Autumn spent more time at home, helping Auntie with chores, running errands, and making dinners. The town felt emptier than it had ever been.

She tried reaching out to friends, but most were busy chasing new lives in distant cities. The few who stayed behind were younger, still anchored in high school, their dreams of escape fresh and untested. Autumn felt older, lonelier, as if she were a ghost drifting through the town she once called home.

Auntie noticed. “You miss him, don’t you?”

Autumn shrugged, stirring soup. “I miss everyone.”

“I hate to be the one to tell you."

"Then don't, but I know you will."

"I told you so. I knew that boy didn’t mean you any good. The rich always stick with the rich, Autumn.”  

She didn’t have a reply; instead, she let her mind drift toward the memories—good and bad—and the flicker of hope she’d always seen in Calvin. She kept herself busy: planting vegetables with Auntie under the hot sun, alphabetizing books at the library until her fingers ached, and volunteering at the animal shelter, where lost dogs greeted her with hopeful eyes. If she couldn’t change the whole world, she could at least bring a little light to one corner of it.

But as the weeks dragged on, a strange tension simmered beneath the surface of Mahdfel. The town was changing—and not for the better.

It started with rumors. Someone had been robbed on the highway. Then another. People began locking their doors earlier and warned their children to stay inside after dark. The news spread—petty theft, then bigger crimes. But it was the unannounced storms and tornadoes that came suddenly out of nowhere.