At the first light of dawn, Loren awoke with a start. The sky was still painted in shades of violet and amber, and the birds were just beginning their tentative morning songs. She quickly reviewed the plan in her mind, her heart hammering with anticipation. But luck, as always, seemed to desert her at the worst possible moment. As she crept toward the door, hoping to leave unnoticed, she froze—her father was standing there, his figure silhouetted against the soft glow of the morning.
Her chest tightened, and her stomach twisted into knots. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, each one more panicked than the last. Trying to steady herself, she forced a smile that felt brittle and unnatural. Her father's gaze was steady, piercing, and full of questions he didn't even need to voice. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Why are you awake so early? What are your intentions?" His tone was calm, but it carried the weight of suspicion, like a quiet storm brewing.
Sweat prickled her forehead, trickling down her temple as she struggled to find words. Her voice trembled, betraying the anxiety she was desperate to hide. "Um… you see… Velaxor and I… we're planning to get married soon, so… we thought we'd go on a… uh… a little date this morning…"
Her father's eyebrows shot up slightly. He studied her face, reading every flicker of emotion. "You changed your attitude so quickly… Yesterday, you were crying, and today, you're laughing. I find that… suspicious. But, well… enjoy your romantic date."
The words "romantic date" felt like a knife to Loren's nerves. Her heart skipped a beat, and a shiver ran down her spine. Yet, somehow, the lie had taken root. She forced herself to nod, muttering a quiet "thank you" before slipping past him, her legs barely carrying her.
Once she arrived, the young couple wasted no time. They huddled together, whispers mixing with quiet laughter as they went over the plan once more. Phase one had been flawlessly executed. By tomorrow, the house purchase and university registration fees would arrive, a step that would cement the illusion of their departure to the capital. Meanwhile, they would take refuge at Mark's secluded cottage at the foot of the mountain. It was perfect—far enough to maintain the ruse, close enough to oversee the next phase of their plans.
That night, despite the tension and the constant undercurrent of fear, there was a fragile thread of joy. The three friends laughed over small mishaps, shared stories, and prepared supplies with a mix of care and exhilaration. It was a night that shimmered with the sweetness of rebellion, of being young and clever enough to outwit the adults who believed they were in control.
Meanwhile, the world above the mountains was unraveling in its own way. Mr. Herbert, noticing his son's absence, assumed he had gone to stay with Mark. But when a bill arrived the next day, addressed to his son from the capital, shock froze him in place. Never in his wildest imaginings had he considered Velaxor capable of such calculated daring. Loren's father, too, was thrown into a spiral of panic. Mr. Grilas immediately dispatched a search team, combing every nearby area with precision, while Velaxor's father reached out to the capital police. He trusted his son, but he also knew him too well—not foolish enough to travel without a careful plan. And so the wheels of confusion, worry, and calculated misdirection began to turn, leaving the parents entangled in the chaos while the young conspirators readied themselves for the next move.