Page 19 of Time After Time (Golden Sands #1)

Geneviève

T he heat was unbearable, pressing into my skin until sweat pooled at my collar and trickled down my spine. My overalls stuck to me, damp and heavy, clinging in all the wrong places. Mud smeared my legs, seeping through the fabric, and my boots squelched with every step.

I’d pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail, hoping for some relief, but it didn’t help. Strands still clung to my neck and forehead, damp with sweat from the gruelling farm work.

A bead of sweat traced its way down my nose, and with an irritated sigh, I wiped it away, probably smearing another streak of dirt across my already filthy face.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, laughter rang out, snapping me out of my thoughts. I jerked my head toward the sound, nearly losing my balance, and found the source just a few meters away.

Sebastian’s laugh blended with the high-pitched giggles of Mrs. Marley’s granddaughter—who, even now, wore fashionable, perfectly fitted clothes—cutting through the noise of the farm.

My lips puckered into a pout, and I turned away, the knot in my chest growing tighter.

“What’s so funny about milking a cow?” I muttered, the words escaping before I could stop them.

“They seem like they’re having fun.”

The voice caught me off guard, and I stumbled, my feet sinking into a patch of mud. I threw my arms out to catch myself, grabbing the wooden fence behind me to keep from falling.

I hadn’t noticed Mrs. Marley approach with a tray of freshly baked cookies and a pitcher of milk, her wide smile softening as her gaze flicked between Sebastian and her granddaughter, both caught up in what seemed to be the funniest moment of their lives while milking a cow.

A grunt escaped me as I wiped the sweat from my forehead. “What’s so funny about milking a cow?” The giggles from the cowshed only grew louder.

Mrs. Marley’s laughter was loud and contagious, and I couldn’t help but smile a little at the sound. “I know how you feel, darling,” she said, her eyes twinkling with sympathy. “I felt the same way when Marianne Bennet wouldn’t stop flirting with my darling.”

A wave of embarrassment rushed to my cheeks, and the cookie I’d just bitten into— after getting rid of my dirty gloves—decided to lodge itself in my throat. I coughed, struggling to swallow. “I... S-Sebastian and I aren’t dating. We’re just friends.”

Mrs. Marley leaned in, her gaze soft but intense as her lips curved slightly. “Why?” she asked, her voice kind but laced with curiosity. I shifted, feeling heat rise to my face, my hands suddenly restless as I met her expectant eyes, searching for something I couldn’t quite put into words.

Before Mrs. Marley could press further, Aria appeared at her side, washed hands still glistening as she beamed up at her grandmother. She dried her hands quickly, then planted a kiss on Mrs. Marley’s cheek. “Thank you for the cookies and milk!”

I tried to pay attention to her, but Mrs. Marley’s question kept circling in my mind.

Walking towards the bucket, I let the cold water run over my hands, the chill easing the heat from my skin.

I glanced over at Sebastian and Aria, suddenly feeling out of place.

After drying my hands on my overalls, I reached for one of the cups of milk Mrs. Marley had brought, intending to offer it to Sebastian.

But before I could, her granddaughter was already there, handing the glass to him with a bright smile.

Sebastian’s face softened as he smiled back at her.

The burn had spread to my throat, but at least the day at the farm was over. I never thought I’d be so relieved to leave this place behind, even if only for the rest of the day. All I wanted now was to head to our favourite spot and finally relax.

Our secret place was a rock formation on the beach that years of different weather had carved into a secluded cove.

It wasn’t exactly a secret—locals and visitors might have come across it—but it was sheltered enough that few did.

Most people flocked to the more popular spots nearby, leaving this corner mostly untouched.

Sebastian had discovered it one summer day, as if it had appeared overnight, swearing it hadn’t been there the day before. Over time, it became the place we both returned to whenever we needed a bit of silence, especially when our minds felt particularly loud.

The light within the cave was tame, filtering through cracks in the rock to cast shifting patterns of light and shadow.

The air smelled of salt and seaweed, and the sound of the ocean echoed inside, like holding a seashell to your ear.

We’d gone there more than once to unwind, only to wake hours later, nudged from sleep by the other.

And now, I felt the same sensation, knowing that if I closed my eyes, I’d fall asleep within seconds.

“How about we try baking tomorrow?” A yawn made him stop as he adjusted his position. “It might turn out to be something you enjoy.”

I swallowed the knot in my throat. The ache in my chest throbbed as I searched for the right words, but they seemed stuck. All I could do was nod, the effort of speaking too much, my response nothing more than a soft hum of agreement.

The silence that followed wasn’t the same as before. It was thick now, heavy.

Sebastian stood, brushing the dirt from his hands before offering one to me. I hesitated a moment before taking it, his touch making me want to close my eyes. His smile had faded, replaced by a look I couldn’t quite decipher. Something more guarded, more pensive than I was used to seeing in him.

We began the walk back, our footsteps echoing faintly through the narrowing cave walls.

The air felt cooler, more oppressive, as if it too sensed whatever was going on.

I kept glancing at him, searching for a sign, anything that would explain the sudden shift in his demeanour, but he remained silent, his eyes fixed ahead.

I almost sighed in relief when his hands found mine, his fingers lacing with mine and prompting my shoulders to finally relax. They dropped, and only then did I notice how tense they’d been. Pain blooming now in the back of my neck and shoulders.

We walked side by side in silence, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of my palm, each stroke loosening the tightness in my throat and easing the weight pressing at the base of my skull.

I turned to meet his gaze. His brow was furrowed, an expression that gave away the storm of thoughts swirling behind his eyes. For a moment, he seemed far away, lost, until he blinked rapidly and shook his head, as if trying to chase the thoughts away.

When he finally focused on me, his gaze turned intense, sweeping over me as though trying to memorise every detail. It felt like he feared forgetting the exact hue of my hair, as if I might disappear by morning.

Once we stood in front of my house, the summer breeze caught the hem of Sebastian’s white t-shirt, making it sway. His left hand gripped his pocket, while the other clutched a bag of clothes from the farm. His knuckles strained white.

“Good night, Gen,” he uttered, sending a shiver through my chest or perhaps my heart, if such a sensation could be articulated.

“Good night, Seb.”

His smile, devoid of himself , didn’t reach his eyes or create the usual creases around his lips. He turned away, leaving me with that and nothing more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” My voice betrayed a neediness I hadn’t known existed, yearning for affirmation.

A simple nod.

“And the day after that too, right?” I asked, feeling like a child being separated from their favourite plushie for a much-needed wash.

Another nod.

“And then?”

A faint breath escaped Sebastian’s lips as he wiped his nose, his response making the corner of my lips tremble. At that moment, I wished I had entered my house without looking back.

“Until it’s time.”

Normally, the roles were reversed — he would observe me turning towards my home, ensuring my safety until the door closed behind me.

Yet, this time, I found myself standing on the other side, fixated on the receding figure of Sebastian.

Vulnerability embraced me, leaving me to ponder if he, too, experienced the same sense of impending loss and hopelessness every time I vanished into the depths of my home.

As he moved farther away, a chill descended, prompting me to clasp my arms around myself in a feeble attempt to ward off the cold that seemed to seep through my very being.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice, though unexpected, failed to coax me into turning around, speaking, or even drawing a breath until Sebastian disappeared from my sight. “Gen?”

My sister had opened the front door while I was distracted looking at him, and now she stood there, her gaze filled with concern.

I tried to push it away with a faint smile.

“Just tired.” My voice teetered on the edge of cracking, forcing me to pause and steady my breath.

“There was a lot of work at the farm, and then we went swimming, so I’m exhausted. ”

Sylvie’s eyes were on me, sharp. I wanted to look away, to keep her from seeing whatever was going on behind my smile.

She had this way of figuring me out, and I didn’t want her to do it now.

But just when I thought I’d have to spill everything, she shifted topics.

“Mum and Dad went out,” she said, her hands working fast on putting her hair up in a perfect not-so-messy bun.

As the persistent goosebumps on my arms and the lingering chills failed to dissipate, I stepped over the threshold into my house, still embracing myself.

“I was waiting for you,” Sylvie announced.

I felt her eyes on me as I slowly closed the front door, my gaze dwelling on the spot where Sebastian had disappeared into the night while I listened to her footsteps as she walked away, and for a brief moment, I thought she had left me alone with my thoughts.

But when I turned around, she was there, standing with a kind smile, a light blanket draped over her arms. Without hesitation, she stepped closer and wrapped it around my shoulders, the soft fabric enveloping me and making me sigh in relief.

I looked down to find Mr. Whiskers, his brilliant eyes gazing up at me as he let out a series of soft, insistent meows, weaving between my legs as if trying to nudge a smile from me.

He was successful, although it wavered, and I felt the strain as a V formed on my forehead. Fatigue enveloped me, not just physically. “I’m too tired,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Sylvie, however, moved closer to the kitchen. “You’re not going to bed with an empty stomach,” she insisted, hands and arms moving around, almost making a headache appear.

She tilted her head, gesturing for me to sit. I found myself on one of the kitchen barstools—the same one where I had my breakfast every morning.

As soon as I settled in, Mr. Whiskers bounded onto the stool next to mine, his paws making no sound on the worn wood. He nudged my arm insistently with his head, demanding attention until I leaned back just enough for him to climb into my lap as we, together, watched Sylvie as she prepared dinner.

I craved the silence, prayed for it to stay. But Sylvie knew me better than I knew myself, knew when to push and when to pull back.

She paused, her hands stilling over the cutting board. “What’s tormenting you?”

A self-deprecating chuckle escaped me. “I don’t need anyone or anything to torment me. I’ve got that covered all on my own.”

My sister’s eyes flicked toward me, her expression serious, the usual humour absent. She didn’t share in my attempt at lightness, and the gleam in her eyes told me she already had a pretty good idea of what was gnawing at me.

Before I could say anything more, she turned away, rinsing her hands under the faucet and then grabbing a handful of paper towels—far more than necessary to dry them.

Without a word, she left the kitchen, her footsteps loud as she disappeared upstairs, leaving me sitting there, bewildered, with only Mr. Whiskers for company.

He stared up at me with his wide, curious eyes, as if he, too, was trying to make sense of what had just happened.

But she soon returned, slipping onto the barstool beside me.

Without a word, she placed my laptop on the kitchen island and nudged it toward me. “Do it.”

I frowned, confused. “Do what?”

“What you were going to do as soon as you shut yourself in your bedroom.”

A lump formed in my throat, growing thicker by the second, making it hard to swallow.

My neck tightened, the sensation pulling uncomfortably at my ears.

I wanted to look anywhere but at her, yet my eyes betrayed me, shifting to the closed laptop in front of me, covered with pastel-coloured stickers with cute cats and quotes.

With a deep sigh, I gave in and opened it. The screen flickered to life instantly as I hadn’t even turned it off this morning.

The keys seemed to taunt me as my trembling fingers hovered over them. When I managed to open my browser, I began typing, and the search suggestions immediately highlighted the very thing I’d been dreading.

Sylvie’s soft sigh filled the room, and I felt my heart sink further.

Reth Inoue—the very name was a symbol of Sebastian’s deepest aspirations.

He had always talked about how much he admired the baker, and when the chance to win a free apprenticeship with him appeared, Sebastian didn’t hesitate to work harder and immediately contacted Inoue’s programme in the USA.

I was well aware of how far it was from our cosy European town.

Yet, I found myself compelled to double-check, a self-inflicted wound fuelled by the need to quantify the vast geographical expanse that threatened to separate us.

“Gen.” My sister’s voice, sweet and soothing, broke through my defences. I couldn’t hold back any longer; the tears I had been desperately trying to keep at bay spilt out uncontrollably.

Before long, I was enveloped in her arms, her whispers promising that everything would be alright.

Yet… while she held me, I couldn’t help but mentally replay the endless kilometres that would eventually separate us.