Roots and Romance - A Fight for Nature and Love – Chapter 12

It's time for Chapter 12 of Roots & Romance! Let's see what unrolls. Unsure where to begin? Start your Roots & Romance voyage with Chapter 1

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Chapter Twelve

A hand waved gently in front of Britta's face. "Britta? Are you alright?"

She flinched, startled by the unexpected intrusion. Blinking away the tears blurring her vision, she turned to see Diana standing beside her, a worried frown etched on her face. The woman who had minutes earlier ignited a firestorm of doubt now stood before her, her posture open and non-threatening.

Britta, caught off guard, struggled to formulate a response. The raw fragility she had in the past few ticks displayed felt exposed, a private sorrow laid bare before a stranger. Wiping the stray tear from her cheek, she forced a tight smile, its hollowness echoing in the silence between them.

"Just needed some fresh air," Her shoulders slumped, taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, letting the cool air fill her lungs. "The festival can get a bit overwhelming."

Diana's gaze held a hint of skepticism, but she didn't press the issue. Instead, she leaned against the tree beside Britta, her posture mirroring Britta's own. The gesture was a soft bridge that connected their individual stories of struggle and perseverance.

Diana dipped her head a little bit, her eyes downcast for a moment. "It can," she agreed in a warm and supportive smile, "Especially for newcomers."

Britta stole a glance at Diana, her curiosity piqued. "You seem to know this town well," she ventured, her hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Diana chuckled, a dry humor coloring the sound. "Well enough," she replied. “I grew up spending summers here with my grandparents. It's where I met Sylas.”

Britta's breath hitched in her throat. The casual revelation felt like a punch to the gut, a confirmation of the very fears that had been gnawing at her. Here was the missing piece of the puzzle, the connection she had been desperately trying to ignore.

Sylas and Diana – an inclusive past, a history that went far deeper than a simple greeting at the festival. The warmth that had bloomed between Britta and Sylas now felt tinged with the bitter chill of jealousy, a potent cocktail that threatened to drown out the fragile hope that had taken root within her.

Britta forced another smile, this one even more strained than the last. "That's… nice," she fidgeted with her hands, her fingers intertwining as she spoke.

Diana seemed to sense the shift in Britta's demeanor, her gaze falling to their clasped hands resting on the rough bark of the tree. With a gentle movement, Diana withdrew her hand, the brief contact leaving a phantom warmth chronic on Britta's skin.

"Listen," Diana's hands spread, her palms facing upward in a calming gesture as she began, "I know things might seem confusing right now, but…"

She paused, her words trailing off as if searching for the right way to express herself. Britta, however, felt no desire to hear her explanation. The confirmation of her fears was enough, a grim fact that left a taste of ash in her mouth.

Before Diana could continue, Britta straightened her posture, a steely resolve hardening her features. "Thank you for your concern," her gaze flicking towards the Ferris wheel. "But I think I need to get back to the festival."

There was no mistaking the finality in her tone. Diana, a faint crease marred her smooth forehead, a sign of concern, opened her mouth to speak again, but Britta didn't wait to hear what she had to say. With a curt nod, she turned and walked away, leaving Diana standing alone beneath the sprawling oak tree. Diana sighed, her gaze spun out on the path ahead, her fingers scrubbing against the tree's rough bark.

Britta pushed through the throng of festival-goers, her steps fueled by a mix of anger and disarray. The ebullient lights and cheerful music that had little while back filled her with joy now seemed mocking, a straightforward opposition to the turmoil churning within her.

Reaching a quieter corner of the festival grounds, she leaned against a weathered wooden post, its rough surface a grounding presence against the chaotic swirl of emotions. Taking a deep breath, she tried to piece together the fragments of information Diana had revealed.

Sylas and Diana – a past connection, a linked history that cast a dark shadow on the budding relationship Britta had dared to hope for. The playful banter, the casual touches – it all painted a picture of an intimacy that went beyond mere friendship.

But Diana's words, hesitant and laced with an unspoken apology, hinted at something more complex. "Things might seem confusing right now," she had said. What was Diana trying to tell her? Was there more to their past than a carefree summer romance?

A spark of curiosity luminesced amidst the storm of anger and diffidence. Perhaps Diana wasn't the threat Britta had initially perceived her to be. Maybe, just maybe, she held the key to understanding Sylas and the unspoken connection that simmered between them.

Just then, a figure appeared from the crowd, his face etched with concern. It was Sylas, his eyes scanning the throng of people until they landed on her. The tightness in his chest eased. He began to walk briskly towards her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Britta! There you are," he approached her, his eyes narrowing as he scans her for any distress. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you alright?"

Britta hesitated, her emotions swirling in a confusing mix. Part of her wanted to lash out, have a go at the proneness that gnawed at her. But another part, a more cautious voice, urged her to hear him out.

Taking a deep breath, she forced a neutral expression. "I'm fine," she said, her chest dipping, her breath exhaling slowly. "Just needed a moment to me."

Sylas frowned, his gaze searching her face. "Is something wrong?" He stepped to the side, giving her space but staying close.

Britta met his gaze, her hands pressing against her sides, trying to stop them from shaking. The truth teetered on the edge of her tongue, a bitter pill she wasn't sure she was ready to swallow. But Diana's words, the hint of something unspoken, echoed in her mind.

"Diana," Britta's throat worked, her Adam's apple bobbing up and down, "She told me… about you two."

Sylas's face went blank for a heartbeat, the surprised look on his face quickly masked. Then, a deep breath, and a resigned nod.

"Yes," he shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting. "We… we used to be a thing."

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Need more after Chapter 12? Chapter 13 of Roots and Romance continues the series!

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