The evening sun had long since dipped below the horizon, drawing the curtain of night across the small town of Dewhurst.
Aralyn walked down the quiet street toward the store, planning to pick up a few baking ingredients. Her hands were buried deep inside her coat pockets, the thick turtleneck snug around her neck and chin, hiding the marks beneath the fabric.
By now, the houses she passed looked almost identical.
Curtains drawn.
Lights dim.
Doors closed.
The fifth house in a row looked no different.
She glanced toward a familiar home where Margarete Lee lived with her two sons and daughter. Margarete happened to turn toward the window at that exact moment.
Their eyes met.
For a brief second, the woman gave her a tight, polite smile before quickly pulling the blinds shut, shielding the inside of the house from an outsider's gaze.
Aralyn looked away and kept walking.
When she had first moved to Dewhurst, she quickly learned the town had its own strange rule–curfew from sundown until dawn.
At least, that was what everyone said. Though from what she had observed, the rule mostly applied to children. Teenagers seemed to bend it. Adults simply ignored it.
Ahead of her, a broken wooden sign creaked softly in the night breeze. Maple Lane Market. Aralyn stepped inside. She gave the cashier a short nod before heading straight for the baking aisle.
The store was nearly empty, except for two shoppers.
"Rye flour, rye flour," she mumbled, searching for that particularly annoying ingredient that was hard to find but essential for the perfect pastry.
"Did you see her come in?"
"Yeah. God, she looks so annoying wearing that damn thing every day."
Aralyn's ears perked up at their voices. Her fingers trailing along the goods paused, then continued deliberately.
"Can you believe it? Three years, and she still hasn't joined a single town meeting!"
Gee. Aralyn rolled her eyes. Why would she join? Every town she'd stayed in had the same boring itinerary–complaints, improvements, events to host, bla bla bla. She never liked it.
"If my husband were mayor, I'd love to see that hag dragged to every meeting," one muttered.
Aralyn choked out a laugh–unfortunately, one she couldn't hide. The two women emerged, glaring. One's ginger hair looked unkempt; the other's expression seemed ready to fight. Aralyn noticed a ring on her finger. Poor husband, he must deal with this daily instead of her.
"Were you laughing at us, woman?" the brunette demanded, scar marring her left cheek.
"Oh? What makes you think that?" Aralyn asked, eyes narrowing.
"Some dweeb like you doesn't get to laugh. Look at you," she sneered. "A coat and a turtleneck in the middle of summer? Trying to get attention when you can't even attend a simple town meeting?"
Aralyn sighed, still reaching for the flour. Unbothered.
"Were you even listening? No parents teach you manners?"
"Oh, I do. They taught me how to handle people like you," Aralyn said simply, checking the box. The tension thickened with the way the brunette drew a sharp breath.
"Excuse me?"
"They said people who behave like this usually have little attention or affection at home. You seem to lack both."
Their jaws dropped. From behind her, a soft whistle sounded.
A tall man with copper hair and grey eyes leaned casually against the shelf, a grin on his lips. "Where I'm from, that sounds a lot like–you're just a bully, Mrs. Pinnings." He nodded to the other woman. "How're you, Cassie?"
Before Mrs. Pinnings could answer, Cassie's face lit up. "Oh my goodness! Noah? When did you get back?"
"Meh, just came by for something for Dad," he said easily, tilting his head toward Aralyn with a casual, knowing smile. "And who might you be?"
Mrs. Pinnings scoffed. "No one important."
Aralyn kept her gaze on the shelves, pretending to mind her own business, though curiosity clawed at her. Rolling her eyes, she moved to the Canned & Packaged section, searching for something comforting. Lately, she had been craving something creamy and soupy.
"That woman is no good, I'm telling you. Stay away from her, Noah. Or else you'll end up like her–always in her cave, never socializing with people like us," Mrs. Pinnings warned, her anger clear as day.
Noah laughed, light and teasing. Aralyn's hand froze mid-air as she reached for the tomato soup. His laugh was airy, beautiful, almost like standing in a meadow with a breeze in her hair. Snap out of it. He's just a guy, she told herself.
"You never know, people can surprise you, Mrs. Pinnings," Noah said lightly.
She heard footsteps and glanced sideways. Noah was there. That stupid grin had morphed into a smirk.
"You're pretty confident for someone who just moved into town and managed to make Mrs. Pinnings mad that fast," he started. "I'm Noah. Noah Brooks. And you are?"
"I'm busy," she replied, clipped.
"Sure. Busy touching that for a minute," he teased.
Aralyn froze, pulling her hand back. She glowered at him.
"You should listen to them. Stay away from me," she said coldly and walked past him toward the counter.
A presence beside her made her sigh in exasperation.
"What do you want?" she muttered under her breath.
"Uh... paying? You don't expect me to just take my things and walk out, do you?" he said nonchalantly, showing his basket. Then, stopping the cashier, "I'll pay for everything," he added, swiping his card.
Aralyn shook her head, already extending cash but his warm hand stopped hers. His eyes held a playful plea. "I insist. After all, I absolutely love the way you shut Mrs. Pinnings down. Not everyone has guts like that," he said.
Her jaw slackened slightly. Begrudgingly, she let him pay. The cashier bagged her things, and Aralyn quickly grabbed them, walking out first. Noah scrambled after her.
"What? No thank you?" he mused.
"Thanks," she said, curtly.
"You don't talk much, do you?"
"Only if it's important."
Noah smiled, like he'd just won a trophy.
"I should be going home. Good night, Noah," Aralyn said, walking quickly away.
"Wait! Let me send you home!" he called. She ignored him, not even turning back.
Noah exhaled, but a small smile betrayed his failed attempt. He climbed into his car, started the ignition, and drove off–hoping he'd see her again soon.