All Chapters of Beyond A Substitute: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The workshop wound down with laughter, a few questionable blends, and several people loudly swearing that spirulina tasted like regret. Everyone carried their smoothies into the courtyard, lounging beneath umbrellas and near small fountains while sipping and trading recipes. Katherine walked slowly with Carolina toward the benches near the rose bushes. Their smoothies were a calming shade of green—mint and mango, with a hint of ginger. The girls found a quiet bench surrounded by blooms, the air sweet with the scent of late spring. Petals dusted the stone path like a soft pink snowfall. Katherine sat back, cradling her drink, and let her shoulders drop. Her muscles still remembered the massage from earlier. Her head felt clearer than it had in months. Carolina chatted about something funny one of the instructors had said, and Katherine laughed—quiet, real laughter. And then, on the other side of the field, Kingsley. He was still by the tent, pretending to be deep in discussion

The sun filtered through tall trees like spilled gold, dappling the soft forest floor with light and shadow. Birds chirped overhead, and a light breeze carried the earthy scent of moss and wildflowers. Not far away, the lake shimmered like a mirror tossed onto the world. The campers wandered toward the clearing near the water, where cushions, clipboards, and sketchpads were already waiting beneath the trees. The facilitator clapped her hands lightly. “This morning,” she said, “we’re doing nature sketching. I want you to be one with this place—feel the quiet, the beauty, the stillness. Don’t overthink it. Just pick something that speaks to you. Maybe it’s a flower. Maybe it’s a tree, a cloud, a butterfly. Just… see it. And draw what you feel, not what you think it’s supposed to look like.” Katherine and Carolina settled on the soft grass near a mossy log, their backs to a thick pine trunk. Across the way, Kingsley and Devon had picked a spot closer to the lake, where the reeds rust

The sun sat warm and high above the clearing, gently filtered by the lacework canopy of tall trees. The air was crisp and quiet, broken only by the low hum of distant insects and the occasional bird chirping as if offering commentary from a hidden perch. A large open area near the edge of the woods had been prepared, crates and wooden planks scattered across the grass in messy, hopeful stacks. Rope coils lay waiting, like questions begging to be unraveled. Participants trickled in from different paths, each drawn by the camp’s midday bell, their mats, sketchbooks, and notebooks left behind in the cabins. Today was not for stillness. It was for movement, for collaboration. For construction. A female facilitator, older, sturdy in presence, and warm-eyed, stood at the center of the field, clapping twice to call everyone’s attention. “Welcome to Bridge Builder,” she said with a calm authority. “In this game, you and a partner will build a bridge from opposite ends using the materials

The sky was beginning to turn gold at the edges, the lake shimmering in the late afternoon light like it was blushing with secrets. Everything around them was quiet, that kind of sacred quiet only nature could give—soft waves lapping at the shore, birds nesting in the tall reeds, the wind brushing lightly across their skin like it was eavesdropping. Katherine and Kingsley walked side by side down the wooden path until they reached the narrow jetty that jutted out into the water. Neither of them spoke at first. They just stood there, shoulder to shoulder, looking out over the lake, both wrapped in the stillness. Katherine was the first to break the silence. “Thank you,” she said, her voice low and sincere, the wind catching a strand of her hair and blowing it across her face. She didn’t brush it away. “For what you did. For Carolina. For Devon.” Kingsley turned to look at her. She was still watching the water, arms crossed loosely over her chest, her expression thoughtful. “Y

The morning sun filtered through the dining hall’s wide windows, spreading soft gold across mismatched mugs of herbal tea, half-eaten bowls of oatmeal, and quiet clusters of retreat-goers, some still waking up, some already deep in conversation. Kingsley sat beside Devon at a corner table, his spoon slowly stirring something he hadn’t touched in ten minutes. Across from them, Katherine and Carolina had only just joined, and while there were smiles—especially between Carolina and Devon—they were the quiet kind. The kind that followed late nights, complicated feelings, and unsaid things. Kingsley’s gaze brushed against Katherine’s for a second too long. She didn’t look away. And then the facilitator, a woman named Mena who wore linen like a second skin and always smiled like she knew something sacred, stepped to the front of the hall and gently clinked her spoon against a ceramic cup. “Hi everyone,” she said warmly, her voice soft but confident, “Good morning. I know many of you