Chapter 46: Departure (Part 2)

As soon as Pete reached his farm, he wasted no time preparing for his departure. He moved with quiet efficiency, his thoughts narrowed to a single, urgent line. First, he tended to the animals, filling the troughs with enough feed to last for days—long enough, he hoped, for someone to notice his absence and step in. The cows and sheep nudged at him as he worked, their familiarity tugging at something deep in his chest, unaware that this was a farewell. His horse flicked its tail and watched him closely, dark eyes following every movement as if it understood more than it should.

When everything was in place, Pete knelt beside his dog and scratched gently behind its ears. The dog's tail thumped happily against the ground, blissfully ignorant of the weight pressing down on Pete's heart.

"I'm sorry," Pete murmured. "I have to go."

The dog licked his hand and leaned into his touch, trusting and warm. Pete swallowed and forced himself to keep speaking, even as his voice grew tight. "When Zack notices the shipping bin's empty, they'll know I'm gone. Someone will come and find new homes for all of you." His fingers curled into the dog's fur, holding on just a moment longer than he should have. "But it won't matter. If I make it back home… you'll all still be there, waiting for me. Or…" He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. "Or you'll stop existing altogether."

His voice wavered, but he steadied himself. "Either way," he said softly, "I need to go."

Pete gave the dog one last pat and stood, turning away before doubt could take root. There was no room left for hesitation, no space for regret. Whatever waited beyond this farm—answers, truth, or nothing at all—he would face it head-on.

As soon as the farm was in order, Pete turned his attention to packing. He moved through the small house with quiet urgency, gathering only the essentials—extra food, what little money he had, and the few documents that might matter if he succeeded. Every motion was deliberate, stripped of sentiment. There was no space left for hesitation, no room for second-guessing. When he finally slung the bag over his shoulder, he paused to take one last look around. The house had never truly felt like home, but it had sheltered him all the same.

He stepped outside with a muted sigh—and stopped short.

Popuri stood at the gate, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her usual sharp energy replaced by something far more serious. The morning light caught her pink hair, but there was no warmth in her expression. She looked like someone who had made up her mind.

Pete narrowed his eyes. "Popuri, what are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," she said, her voice firm and unyielding.

He shook his head and started past her, already angling toward the road. "If this is about the Goddess Festival, I already told Rick I'm not going."

Popuri grabbed his arm, her grip startlingly strong. "I don't care about the Goddess Festival," she snapped. Then her voice lowered, steady but intense. "Pete, I've been having dreams."

His body went rigid. "I don't have time for this," he said sharply, pulling his arm free. "I need to go." Without looking back, he turned and started walking off the farm, his pace quick and resolute—unaware that this was the one conversation he couldn't outrun.

She stepped directly into his path, forcing him to stop. When he tried to sidestep her, she mirrored his movement, blocking him again with stubborn resolve. Her jaw was set, her eyes bright with urgency. "Listen to me," she insisted. "These dreams… they're about you."

Pete's patience finally snapped. "If this is some kind of confession, now isn't the time," he shot back, his voice sharp with strain. He turned as if to leave, but Popuri didn't move. Instead, she held her ground, studying his face as though searching for a crack in a carefully built wall.

"You don't understand," she said, more quietly now, but no less intense. "They feel real. Not like dreams—like memories. Memories I shouldn't have." A chill crept down Pete's spine at her words, but he forced himself forward, brushing past her and heading toward the forest path. Whatever she thought she had seen, whatever meaning she was trying to pull from it, he couldn't afford to stop now. Not when the truth was finally within reach.

Popuri sucked in a breath and shouted after him, "In those dreams, you were married to another Popuri!"

Pete froze mid-step. The world seemed to tilt as his breath caught painfully in his throat, a sharp gasp slipping free before he could stop it. Slowly, he turned around, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

Popuri marched toward him, her eyes blazing with certainty. "I knew it," she said fiercely. "You know something about these dreams." She stopped just inches from him, crossing her arms, her stance unyielding. "You're not the Pete who came here six years ago, are you?" Her voice dropped, steady and demanding. "Who are you? Tell me the truth."

Pete swallowed hard, knowing there was no longer any way to dodge the truth. He drew in a slow, steadying breath before meeting her gaze head-on. "You're right," he said quietly. "I'm not the person you met six years ago. I don't belong to this timeline." His voice carried the weight of a secret he had borne alone for far too long. "I'm from another version of this world—one where I grew up in Flowerbud Village."

Popuri staggered back a step, the anger in her face giving way to stunned disbelief. "Flowerbud Village?" she whispered, as if saying the name aloud might shatter it. "But… how is that even possible? How did you get here?" Her thoughts raced, trying and failing to ground themselves in something familiar.

"I don't know how it happened," Pete admitted, clenching his fists at his sides. "But your father, Rod... he's connected to it somehow." The moment he said the name, Popuri's hands curled into fists, her knuckles whitening as emotion surged through her.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. Her voice trembled, caught somewhere between anger and hurt.

Pete let out a sharp breath. "Would you have believed me if I had?"

"Yes!" she shot back without thinking. Then she faltered, uncertainty flickering across her face. She hesitated, brows knitting together as she replayed the past in her mind. "Actually… no... Maybe?" She sighed, rubbing her temple before straightening. "Not back then. But now? I believe you."

Pete studied her for a moment before folding his arms. "So now that you know the truth," he asked quietly, "what are you going to do about it?"

Popuri exhaled, her shoulders sagging just a little. "I don't know," she admitted. "But at least I know I'm not losing my mind." She lifted her chin and met his gaze. "What about you? What's your plan?"

He turned away, staring out across the forest as if the answer had been waiting there all along. "I'm going to find Rod," he said evenly. "And then I'm going home."

Before he could take another step, Popuri rushed in front of him, blocking his path. "Then I'm coming with you."

Pete groaned, frustration flaring. "You can't. Your family—"

The sharp crack of a slap cut him off. His head snapped to the side, heat blooming across his cheek as he stared at her in shock. Popuri stood firm, fists clenched, eyes blazing with resolve. "I. Wasn't. Asking," she said flatly.

Pete rubbed his cheek with a weary sigh, the sting still lingering as much in his pride as on his skin. He should have known better than to argue. This wasn't the Popuri he had known back home—the soft-spoken friend he had lost, whose kindness had once felt as fragile as it was precious. This Popuri was different. She lived by her own rules, sharp-edged and unyielding, a rose with thorns that demanded respect rather than protection.

And he knew, deep down, that even if he tried to leave without her, she would follow. Not out of recklessness, but out of resolve—out of the need to find her father and understand the truth for herself. Leaving her behind wouldn't be mercy. It would be cruelty, to her and to the family she refused to abandon. To bring her father back home and complete her family.

"Fine," he muttered at last, the fight draining from his voice. He looked at her, really looked at her, and nodded once. "Do you have everything you need?"

"I'll manage," she replied without hesitation.

"Then let's go." He turned and started walking, and after a brief pause, Popuri fell into step beside him.

A moment later, she glanced over and frowned. "Where are we even going? We don't know where my dad is."

Pete didn't slow, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I may not know where he is," he said, voice steady with purpose, "but I know where to start." His jaw tightened as he spoke the name that had haunted him since the beginning. "We're going back to where this all started... Flowerbud Village."