Page 49 of The Slug Crystal

Marco is the first to pick up on my distress, his scholarly observation finally turning in my direction. His smile fades, replaced by a frown of concern. "Emma? Are you alright? "

Four pairs of eyes swing toward me, laughter dying as they register my expression, the crumbled pastry, the wetness on my cheeks that I can no longer hide.

"What if we already missed our chance?" I ask quietly, voicing the fear that's been growing since Venice. "What if the longer he stays a snail, the more he... becomes one? What if the human part is already gone?"

No one answers immediately. The morning sunlight continues its relentless advance across the table, illuminating dust motes that dance whimsically across the air like physical manifestations of our uncertainty. Alex continues his exploration, blissfully oblivious to the debate about his fate.

"We don't know that," Jake finally says, his hand finding my leg beneath the table.

His palm is warm against my skin, his touch grounding me as it always does.

"We keep searching for Sarah. We keep trying.

And we..." He hesitates, glancing at the others before continuing.

"We make the best of this situation in the meantime. "

"The situation where my ex-boyfriend is a snail, or the situation where I'm involved with four men at once?" I ask, aiming for humor, though it falls slightly flat.

"Both, I suppose," Marco answers with unexpected lightness. "Though I suspect one situation is significantly more unprecedented than the other."

"Statistically speaking," Ben adds with a wink.

Luca raises his espresso cup in a mock toast. "To unprecedented situations and their unexpected benefits."

I hiccup, trying to smile while my eyes still feel wet and my heart still feels like it’s breaking.

"Emma," Jake says softly, his hand reaching for mine.

I stare at the blue snail in his glass house, at the creature that used to be a man I dated. But looking at him just makes it worse. The tears come faster, impossible to stop, as weeks of guilt and stress finally breach the dam I've built around them.

"I didn't mean to curse him!" The words explode from me, followed immediately by a wet, hiccupping sob that silences every man at the table.

My hands shake violently, sending pastry crumbs cascading across the polished wood.

"I was just mad and drunk, and it wasn’t supposed to work, and now I'm feeding my ex cucumbers as a treat, out of guilt!

" Tears stream down my face unchecked, hot trails of shame and regret.

The villa's bright kitchen blurs around me, the morning light suddenly too harsh, too revealing of the mess I've become.

The joking atmosphere evaporates instantly, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by my ragged breathing. I try to wipe away the tears with trembling fingers, but they come too fast.

"I just wanted him to feel small for one day," I continue, words tumbling out between sobs.

"Not actually become small. Not lose his job, his apartment, his life.

Not get stuck in a glass box watching me.

.. watching us..." I gesture helplessly at the four men around the table, at the tangle of connections we've formed while Alex has been trapped in his spiral prison.

"I ruined his life over a stupid break-up. "

Ben's green eyes are wide with genuine concern.

Luca sets down his espresso cup with deliberate care, all traces of casual nonchalance gone from his posture.

Marco removes his glasses, cleaning them methodically on his shirt hem, a nervous habit I've come to recognize when he's processing emotional situations.

And Jake, steady, reliable Jake, stands up and kneels in front of me, placing a palm on each of my knees.

"Emma," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "You didn't know the crystal would actually work. No one could have predicted this."

"But I should be focusing on fixing him," I insist, voice breaking. "Instead, I've been... distracted. What kind of person does that make me? "

My eyes fix on Alex's terrarium through a blur of tears.

"A human person," Marco answers, his academic tone softened with unexpected warmth. "One who's been carrying an impossible burden while navigating an unprecedented situation."

"You haven't abandoned him," Luca adds, leaning forward. "We've crossed half of Italy searching for a solution. That's hardly neglect."

"And maybe..." Ben hesitates, uncharacteristically serious. "Maybe connections with people aren't distractions. Maybe they're how we survive impossible situations."

Fresh tears spill at their kindness, at the absence of judgment I expected but don't deserve.

Jake's thumb traces gentle circles on my leg, a steady rhythm that gradually helps calm my breathing.

"I'll be on snail duty for a few days so you can breathe," he offers, his blue eyes holding mine with such tenderness that my chest aches.

"We've got you, Emma. You’re not in this alone. "

The simple offer loosens something tight within me. My shoulders release their tightness slightly, and I manage a watery smile.

"We all will," Luca confirms, looking surprisingly resolute. "Operation Snail Watch. We'll create a schedule."

"I've already been documenting his dietary preferences and activity patterns," Marco adds, tapping his tablet. "It would be simple to expand the observation parameters."

"And I'll handle the entertainment portion of his care," Ben volunteers with a hint of his usual humor returning. "Every snail needs a little excitement. Maybe tiny obstacle courses. Snail parkour."

A wet laugh escapes me, the knot in my chest loosening further. "You guys are ridiculous. And... thank you."

Marco clears his throat, straightening in his chair as he taps decisively on his tablet screen. The gesture is so characteristic, his way of bringing structure back to emotional chaos, that it's oddly comforting.

"Speaking of solutions," he says, turning the tablet to face us, "I believe I've found another lead.

" His finger points to an image on the screen. It’s a photo of Sarah holding one of her crystal kits, standing in front of a shop with an ornate sign.

"This was recently tagged on her business account.

The original posting is from approximately three months ago, geotagged at a specialty shop in Milan. "

My heart leaps, hope fluttering against my ribs like a captured bird. "Milan? That's what, three hours from here?"

"Approximately, yes," Marco confirms, adjusting his glasses.

"The establishment appears to specialize in rare minerals and crystals.

Sarah appears to sell her wares there. They might have records of her sales, contact information, or knowledge of her current whereabouts.

Even though this was several months ago, if she is not in Milan, it is more likely that they will have maintained contact with Sarah to pay her for the sales she makes through the store. "

"Milan," Jake repeats thoughtfully. "We could be there by this afternoon."

"So, we finish the journey," Luca says, already reaching for his phone, presumably to arrange transportation. "Find Sarah, fix Alex, and then decide what happens next."

"And if we can't find her?" I ask, voicing the fear that's haunted me since Venice. "If this is another dead end?"

"Then we regroup and try something else," Ben says with surprising gentleness. "But we don't give up."

"So, the plan is... Milan, then no plan?" I ask, turning my attention back to the terrarium.

"The plan is to keep searching," Jake corrects gently. "And to handle whatever comes next. Together."

I look around at the four of them and feel a surge of gratitude so powerful it momentarily eclipses my guilt. Whatever mess I've created, at least I'm not facing it alone .

My gaze shifts back to Alex's terrarium. The blue snail has paused his exploration, his body angled toward us as if listening to our conversation. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine he understands, that somewhere inside that spiral shell, the human Alex is aware of our efforts to help him.

"What do you think?" I ask him directly, feeling slightly foolish but needing to include him in this decision. "Milan? One more try?"

The snail remains motionless for a long moment, then slowly turns and moves toward the water dish, his usual morning routine, nothing that could reasonably be interpreted as communication. Yet, in my heart, I choose to let the movement feel like agreement.

I softly wipe the last traces of tears from my face. "Majority rules."

Marco begins outlining a detailed plan for our trip to Milan, his scholarly precision bringing order to our chaos. Jake squeezes my hand once more before rising to prepare Alex's terrarium for travel. Ben and Luca debate the fastest route, their voices regaining their usual animated energy.

“Hold on,” Luca interrupts suddenly, phone in hand. He squints at the screen, scrolling rapidly. “There’s a planned strike today. It impacts almost all Italian trains, with no service until at least tomorrow around noon. If we leave today, we’ll have to scramble to find another route.”

Ben groans, slumping dramatically in his chair. “Of course. The universe clearly wants us to sit around and eat more carbs before we save the day.”

Marco adjusts his glasses. “It would be wiser to leave once the strike concludes. A morning departure ensures fewer disruptions.”

“Fine,” Jake says, already reorganizing the plan in his head. “We’ll go first thing tomorrow. Everyone gets a good night of rest, then Milan.”

The kitchen buzzes with renewed purpose again, but I can feel the edges of exhaustion pressing in. I can't undo my mistake, but I can keep trying to fix it, keep following every lead until we find Sarah. Or until we accept that some transformations can't be reversed.

Either way, the journey will continue. To Milan and hopefully to answers. And if not, to whatever comes next.