Chapter Eleven: The Carnival
The winter carnival was everything Amaya had promised—a symphony of blinking lights, shouting vendors, and the sweet, greasy scent of fried dough hanging in the cold air. She walked through the crowded lanes with her friends from college, but her attention was elsewhere. Her eyes constantly scanned the crowd, a hopeful, nervous flutter in her chest.
She dragged her friends onto the Ferris wheel, her gaze fixed on the path leading into the carnival. She bought a bag of powdered sugar doughnuts, eating them without tasting a thing. He wasn't coming. He'd meant his refusal. The disappointment was a physical ache, a cold weight in her stomach that had nothing to do with the chilly air.
"Amaya, are you even listening?" her friend, Chloe, asked, nudging her. "You've been spaced out all night."
"Sorry," Amaya mumbled, forcing a smile. "Just… looking for someone."
"A guy?" Chloe wiggled her eyebrows. "Is it that tutor you're always sighing about?"
Before Amaya could answer, her heart stopped. There, near the ring-toss game, stood a tall, familiar figure in a dark coat, his hands shoved into his pockets. His messy hair was unmistakable, even under the dim, colorful lights.
Aris.
He had come.
He wasn't looking at the games or the lights. He was standing still, as if he'd been rooted to the spot, his gaze sweeping the crowd. Looking for her.
The breath caught in Amaya's throat. "I'll be right back!" she blurted to her friends, not waiting for a response before weaving through the crowd toward him.
He saw her when she was a few feet away. His body went still, his expression a complex mix of resignation and something else, something warmer that made her stomach swoop.
"You came," she said, stopping in front of him, her voice breathless.
"I was in the area," he said, tone gruff, but his eyes were studying her—the powdered sugar dusting her lip, the pink tip of her nose from the cold, the sparkle of excitement she couldn't hide.
"Liar," she whispered, a triumphant smile breaking through. "You never just 'happen to be in the area'."
He didn't deny it. Instead, he reached out, and with a gentleness that belied his stern expression, he brushed his thumb over the corner of her lip, wiping away the sugar. The touch was electric, intimate, and over in a second.
"You had something on your face," he stated, clinically.
Amaya's whole face flushed. The noise of the carnival faded into a distant hum. "So," she said, voice unsteady, "since you're here… will you go on the Ferris wheel with me?"
He looked up at the giant, slowly turning wheel, lit against the night sky. It was un-academic, frivolous, and almost absurd. He let out a long, slow breath, a visible cloud in the cold air. "Fine," he said, the word clipped. "One ride."
Her smile could have powered the entire carnival. She led the way, he followed, a silent, brooding shadow at her side. They didn't speak in the line, the space between them charged with unspoken words.
When they were seated in the swaying gondola and the safety bar clicked into place, the world shrunk to just the two of them. The carnival sprawled below, a tapestry of light and sound, but Amaya only had eyes for him. He was looking out at the view, his profile catching the glow of the Ferris wheel lights.
"You can see my house from here," she said softly, pointing.
He followed her gaze. "I know."
The gondola rocked at the apex, and she instinctively grabbed his arm. He stiffened slightly, but he didn't pull away. Her hand rested on the rough wool of his coat; she could feel the solid muscle of his forearm beneath it.
"Aris," she whispered.
He finally turned to look at her. The usual walls were down. In the semi-darkness, he looked… younger, human, and not the relentless tutor she had known.
"This was a mistake," he murmured, though his tone lacked anger. It sounded almost weary, conflicted.
"It doesn't feel like a mistake to me," she whispered back, her eyes holding his. "It feels like the first right thing that's happened all night."
The Ferris wheel began its descent, bringing them back to reality, back to the ground, back to the lines they had blurred. But as the ride ended and they stepped out, Amaya knew something had irrevocably changed. He had come for her. And for a few minutes at the top of the world, he had let his guard down.
He walked her back to where her friends were waiting. "Go home with your friends, Amaya," he said, voice firm but softened at the edges.
"Okay," she agreed, feeling dazed and happy.
Before he left, Aris reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. He handed it to her with the same precision he used to align his textbooks, expression unreadable.
"For your birthday," he said, voice low, almost reluctant. "Consider it… a neighborly gesture. Nothing more."
Amaya stared at him, heart stammering. "For me?"
He nodded, turning slightly away, as if shielding himself from her reaction. "It's silver. Open it."
Hands trembling, she lifted the lid. Inside rested a delicate silver necklace, the pendant a small, elegant swan. The craftsmanship was exquisite. Her eyes widened.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. Her fingers traced the contours of the swan, smooth and cold.
"It's… nothing," he muttered, adjusting the collar of his coat. "I excused it from my mother. Don't make a fuss."
Amaya bit back a squeal of delight. "Thank you… Aris."
He inclined his head briefly, then vanished into the crowd, leaving her clutching the gift, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
The next morning, Amaya bounded down to the kitchen, the necklace tucked safely inside her sweater.
"Happy Birthday, Amaya!" Elara exclaimed, appearing at the doorway with a small box wrapped in cheerful paper. "I couldn't resist. Open it!"
Amaya handed her a quick hug, still giddy from the carnival, before tearing the paper off. Inside was a set of delicate hand-painted bookmarks, each featuring mythical creatures and tiny inspirational quotes.
"You know me too well," Amaya said, eyes sparkling. "Thank you!"
Elara raised an eyebrow playfully. "Though I must say… you already have a gift from someone else, don't you?"
Amaya's cheeks flamed red. "I… I guess. Just a little… neighborly thing." She traced her fingers over the swan locket. "It's perfect."
Elara smiled knowingly, though she didn't press further. "Liar," she teased, ruffling Amaya's hair. "Aris may claim it's nothing, but I know better."
Amaya laughed, hiding her face in her hands. The thrill of the night, the swan necklace, the soft teasing from Elara—it all melded into a quiet joy. She realized she was exactly where she wanted to be: celebrated, seen, and just on the edge of something she couldn't yet name.
And somewhere, deep down, she knew Aris Rowon had noticed her in a way no one else ever could.