Chapter 39: Delicate Flower (Part 1)

The first days of Fall arrived with a crisp breeze that carried the scent of drying leaves and rich earth. The sun hung lower in the sky, draping Mineral Town in warm golden hues as the villagers prepared for the changing season. Soon, the sweet potatoes would ripen, filling kitchens with the comforting aroma of roasted potatoes, and the town would gather to share in the abundance before Winter's chill set in.

Fall had always been a time of togetherness—a season of quiet gratitude before the snow blanketed the cobblestone roads, making travel difficult and keeping people huddled indoors. The air felt different now, carrying both the promise of the coming frost and the warmth of lingering traditions. It was a time for reflection, for preparation, and for strengthening the bonds that held the town together before the long, cold nights arrived.

But not everyone felt the warmth of togetherness that Fall was meant to bring. Inside the clinic, Elli sat at her desk, resting her chin in her hand as she absentmindedly flipped through the pages of a medical journal. The words blurred together, her mind elsewhere. The clinic was quiet, as it often was. Lillia had stopped by that morning for her usual checkup, and Jeff had visited to restock his medicine. Aside from the occasional injury or seasonal cold, the days dragged on—slow, predictable, and lacking the excitement that once filled them. It hadn't always felt this dull. Not long ago, her time had been brighter, punctuated by the laughter and presence of someone who had made even the dullest days feel meaningful. But now, that presence felt more distant than ever.

Before, when Pete would visit regularly, the quiet hours at the clinic had been filled with warmth. He used to stop by whenever he had a free moment, leaning against the counter with that easygoing grin of his, chatting about his farm or some ridiculous thing his animals had done that morning. Sometimes he'd bring her flowers—freshly picked, their petals still glistening with morning dew. Other times, he'd simply sit with her, filling the slow afternoons with laughter and easy conversation. Even on the dullest days, he had a way of making everything feel special. But lately, those moments had become scarce.

Pete had been preoccupied, more invested in the affairs of the town than in the quiet sanctuary of the clinic. And Elli couldn't escape the reminders. Everyone had something to say about him. Jeff had mentioned how Pete's presence had brightened Karen's mood, bringing a newfound lightness to her usually sharp demeanor. Lillia had smiled as she spoke of Pete helping Rick with his burdens, his guidance playing a part in mending Rick and Karen's fragile bond. Even Carter from the church had stopped by, expressing his gratitude for Pete's help repairing the steps. Pete was everywhere—everywhere except with her.

"I guess it's good for the town," she reminded herself, forcing a small smile. Pete was finally opening up, making connections beyond his farm and the clinic. For years, she had heard the same complaint—that he kept to himself too much, that he never truly integrated into the community. This was what she had always wanted for him, what she had encouraged from the start. So why did it feel like she was losing him?

While it warmed her heart to hear the townspeople speak so highly of Pete, there was an ache beneath it all—an unshakable feeling that, in becoming part of everyone's lives, he was slowly slipping away from hers. Loneliness was something she had always accepted as part of her profession. As a nurse and midwife, she had long understood that her days would be spent caring for others, often with little time left for herself. It was a reality she had made peace with—until Pete came along.

He had promised to love her unconditionally, to be the one constant in her life no matter how busy or difficult things became. And for the first time, she had allowed herself to believe it. To believe that, like her mother and grandmother before her, she could open her heart to love and be loved in return. She had always known love wouldn't be easy, but Pete had made her feel that even someone like her—someone who spent her days looking after others—deserved to be cherished too. Now, she couldn't help but wonder… was that still true? Or had she only been fooling herself?

Elli sighed, rubbing her temples. She didn't want to be selfish. She wanted to be happy for him. But deep down, a nagging thought whispered that something wasn't right. Pete had always made time for her—always. Now, even when he did visit, it was brief, as if he was just passing through.

Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe he was just busy. But no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, a nagging thought clawed at her heart, "Is Pete losing interest in me?"

The creak of the clinic door snapped her back to reality. She looked up, and there he was—Pete, standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the golden afternoon light. Dust clung to his boots, the faint scent of soil and sun lingering around him, a quiet reminder of how much time he'd been spending outside these walls.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice warm but distant—like a familiar song played from far away, just out of reach.

Elli forced a smile, though she felt the weight of hesitation behind his greeting. A dozen thoughts tangled in her mind, all of them aching to be spoken. She wanted to tell him how lonely she had felt, how much she missed him—how it felt like she was slowly becoming just another person in town rather than the one he used to go out of his way to see. But she held back.

She didn't want to be that girl—the one who clung too tightly, who asked for too much. The last thing she wanted was to push him away with her own fears and insecurities, to make him feel trapped in something that had once felt effortless between them. So she took a deep breath, swallowing the emotions threatening to rise, and instead, she kept her voice light, calm—casual. "You finally decided to stop by."

Pete chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish look crossing his face. "Yeah… I guess I've been a little busy."

"Busy?" The word settled in her chest, heavier than she expected. She wanted to believe it was nothing—that things between them were the same as they had always been. But as she looked at him now, standing just a few feet away yet feeling farther than ever, she couldn't ignore the growing distance between them.

"How could he possibly be too busy to spend time with me?" she whispered to herself.

They had been together for years, their relationship woven so naturally into their lives that it was impossible to imagine it any other way. Everyone in town had always rooted for them, smiling knowingly whenever they were together, as if their love was something inevitable—something meant to last. There had even been whispers of marriage, talk of a future where they would settle into their own little world, leaving everyone else as minor characters in their story. And yet, all of a sudden, Pete had become busy.

Elli took a steadying breath, pushing down the unease twisting in her stomach. Maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe if they talked—really talked—things would feel normal again.

"So," she began, forcing a lighthearted tone, "how's the farm? Everything going well?"

Pete shifted on his feet, glancing at the floor before meeting her gaze. "Yeah. It's fine."

Elli blinked, waiting for more. When none came, she pressed on. "That's good. Did you get a good harvest last Summer?"

Pete nodded. "Yeah. It went well."

She tilted her head, searching his expression for something—anything—to grasp onto. The old Pete would have launched into a full conversation about his crops, which ones grew best, the quirks of his animals, maybe even a funny story about his horse being too stubborn to leave the barn one morning. But now… it was like pulling teeth just to get a conversation going.

Elli tried again. "Lillia told me you've been helping out a lot around town. That's really kind of you."

Pete hesitated, as if he had to think about the answer. "I just… wanted to be more involved, I guess."

She frowned slightly. His voice lacked the usual warmth, the enthusiasm she had always adored. This wasn't like him. The Pete she fell in love with could talk to her for hours, making even the most mundane topics feel important. But now, he seemed… distracted, distant.

Trying to mask the growing pit in her stomach, she asked, "And what about you? How have you been?"

For a second, he looked caught off guard, like he hadn't expected the question. "Me? I'm… good."

"Just good?" she said to herself. Elli searched his face, hoping for a flicker of something familiar, something real. But he just stood there, arms at his sides, offering nothing more.

A heavy silence stretched between them, and for the first time in years, Elli realized—she didn't know what to say to him. And worse… he didn't seem to know what to say to her either.

The awkward silence between them stretched longer, filling the small clinic with a tension Elli couldn't bear. Pete shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the door as if calculating the quickest way to leave.

"Well, I should probably get going," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Panic flickered in Elli's chest. He was slipping away again. If she let him walk out that door, she wasn't sure when—or if—he would come back, not in the way she needed him to.

Before she could stop herself, she stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. "Pete, wait."

He hesitated, turning back to her. There was no irritation in his expression, but there was something else—hesitation, maybe even discomfort.

Elli swallowed, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. "Can I… spend the night with you tonight?"

Pete swallowed hard, his pulse quickening as the weight of Elli's request settled over him. The silence between them had stretched unbearably long, each second making it clearer that something was wrong. And now, she was looking at him with those soft, pleading eyes—the ones that made it impossible to simply walk away.

"You… stay over?" he repeated, forcing a nervous chuckle as he scratched the back of his head.

Elli nodded, stepping closer. "Barley can watch Stu for the night. I just thought… we haven't really spent time together lately." Her voice wavered slightly, but she smiled, as if trying to convince both herself and him that this was normal—that they were normal.

Pete felt his stomach tighten. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked under his breath. He had completely forgotten this was something they used to do—that they had spent nights together before. The way she spoke, the way she looked at him, all of it told him that this wasn't new. "But for me, it is." he quietly reminded himself.

He wasn't the Pete she had fallen in love with. He wasn't the man who had spent years with her, learning every detail about her life, her quirks, her dreams. He didn't know how to hold her the way she wanted to be held, how to comfort her in the ways she had come to expect. Worse than that—he had no experience with relationships at all!

His throat felt dry as he tried to think of a way out, but when he glanced at Elli, he saw the vulnerability in her expression. She wasn't just asking to stay over. She was asking for reassurance—proof that whatever had changed between them could still be salvaged. And that was the part that scared him the most.

At first, he almost told her no. It would be easier that way. Safer. But then he saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes, the way her shoulders tensed, as if bracing for rejection.

Pete exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said before he could second-guess himself. "You can stay over."

Elli's face lit up, her eyes wide with joy, a spark of the he hadn't seen in a long time. For a moment, Elli almost felt relief—like maybe this was enough to bridge the growing distance between them. But the weight in Pete's chest didn't lift. If anything, it pressed down harder.

"Just play along," he told himself. "Just for tonight. It's just a date, I should be able to handle this."

Whatever she was hoping for, whatever comfort she needed, he would try to give it to her. And yet, a quiet fear gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. He could only hope that whatever she expected of him, he wouldn't fail her completely.