Chapter 1
As Elias Berrington lowered his head, the tattoo on the back of his neck became visible—an understated geometric circle. “Little Rowan, quit zoning out like that. I might start questioning my skills here,” he muttered with annoyance. Rowan Chenery’s gaze shifted from his back to their tangled bodies, both slick with warm, lingering fluids. The acceleration of his movement inside her felt like a punishment for her distraction. It was the twenty-sixth year since they first met. This year, Rowan was twenty-six, and their story began long before she took on the name Little Rowan. Their history was woven through shared laughter, hushed whispers, and a bond that seemed unbreakable, yet it was fraught with tension. Elias was more than a partner to her; he was an enigma, embodying both strength and vulnerability within his tall, sturdy frame. Rowan still remembered the gleam of the stars reflecting in his eyes that summer evening when they first discovered what it meant to be intertwined, not just as friends, but as lovers. Every moment since had brought them closer, yet also posed questions—questions she often pondered during her quiet moments, moments much too lengthy for Elias's patience. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the soft glow bathed their surroundings in golden light, and for a brief moment, the world outside faded away. But the complexities of their bond loomed large, leaving a weight on their intertwined spirits, a connection that both elated and burdened them. Behind the passion lay a struggle that would test everything they knew about love, loyalty, and identity. With each thrust, Elias seemed to echo his frustrations and desires, turning their passion into something that felt almost primal. Yet, within that urgency was a mutual understanding—an unspoken agreement to forge ahead despite the shadows of the past creeping ever closer. Rowan knew this moment was just a layer of their deeply textured narrative, one filled with light and dark, highs and lows. They were bound to navigate the complexities of their relationship, and despite the heat of the moment, the path ahead was uncertain. Together, they would either rise to meet the challenges or be swept away by the tide of their untamed emotions.
Chapter 2
Little Rowan Chenery hated her name when she was a kid, so the first thing she did as an adult was to change it. The person who protested the most wasn’t her mom, but Elias Berrington, who somehow managed to stop her from leaving the house. “Don’t you think your name is special?” he asked with a serious look on his face. “Special? How?” “Maybe someone will go their whole life without meeting another Chenery. Isn’t that special enough?” His ridiculousness made her teeth itch with annoyance. Little Rowan remembered all too well how much he enjoyed teasing her about her name back in school. She had even scrawled “I hate Elias Berrington” and “Elias Berrington can die” in pencil on the wall beneath the TV in their old apartment at Electra's End. Let’s rewind to when those pencil scratches hadn’t yet faded with the moving away of all the tenants. Starting from the graduation of their elementary school… “Did your mom name you Chenery because she really likes pears?” Little Rowan had been asked this so many times that she was too tired to respond. Instead, she threw back a question: “And your mom named you Elias because she expects you to be a great Berrington scholar?” “How do you know?” Elias shot back, then he pointed to her graduation photo, where her eyes were squinted almost shut. “By the way, your graduation picture is downright ugly.” “Did I even show you? You went through my stuff without permission, you know that’s an invasion of privacy?” Little Rowan snatched her photo and the accompanying journal out of his hands. “I’ll ask my mom tonight if I have the right to invade your privacy.” Elias’s mom was a lawyer, and back then they had no idea what lawyers did. Little Rowan had honestly thought being a lawyer was a bit like being a cop—someone who caught the bad guys. As he kept talking, Elias suddenly leaned in, his boyish face enlarging in her vision, close enough for her to see the roots of his eyelashes. At that moment, staring into his clear, bright eyes, Little Rowan felt a flash of vulnerability; was she really visible to him? “Hey, you have a mole right here.” His thumb brushed against her temple, and for a moment, the heat of his fingertips sent shivers down her arm. She couldn't tell if it was the stifling heat of Berrington that was slowing down her thoughts, but it seemed both of them moved forward at the same time. The kiss felt natural, as if it was always meant to happen—his tongue found hers, and it cued a gentle rhythm of exploration. Elias’s hands cradled the back of her head, preventing her from toppling onto the bed. The feeling of the kiss was floated and soft, comforting, like she was a delicate ocean creature being tenderly caressed. She had always loved the ocean and all its mysteries as they brought her a sense of remarkable safety. The subtle sounds of lips meeting mingled with the creaks of the old air conditioner blaring in the summer afternoon, creating a backdrop of forbidden intimacy. “Chenery! Are you done packing? We’re heading to Grandma Greta’s for dinner soon!” Little Rowan’s heart raced as her mother’s voice suddenly echoed through the room, and she instinctively kicked Elias off her as her lips still buzzed from the kiss. The door swung open, revealing her mother. “Hey, why didn’t you answer me? I called, and you didn’t reply. Elias is here? Why are you sitting on the floor?” “Uh… I was just….” Rowan stammered, her face still flushed. She had kicked Elias so hard that he landed awkwardly on the floor, rubbing his back. “Everything’s packed? Let’s hurry up then. I’ll help you gather your things,” Lady Seraphina Chenery added, glancing toward the mess scattered around. “There's plenty of watermelon cut up in the fridge, why don’t you grab some for all of us?” “Oh, I don’t want any,” Elias piped up. In her head, Little Rowan couldn’t help but think that he didn’t come to help her, but rather to stir trouble. Her mother rattled off her reminders about finishing up and shut the door behind her as she left. “You okay?” Little Rowan asked when she saw Elias trying to stand and shaking off the sudden embarrassment. “You tell me,” he muttered, rubbing his lower back. “It wasn’t on purpose, my mom surprised me, and I just panicked…” she trailed off, realizing the intense situation they were in. Elias, with his gray sweatpants, casually reclined against her bed, completely unfazed, letting his gaze wander at the ceiling. His posture casually revealed the slight bulge of a certain area, and he didn’t even seem to care. If he had dog-like ears, they would have been drooping from his posture. “Don’t you think that’s a normal bodily reaction? I mean, if it doesn’t go away, that’d be abnormal,” he joked. “Want to give it a try?” “No thanks.” “Oh come on. I’m just kidding.” His playful demeanor made her roll her eyes. “Seriously, you need to move a little, I really need to finish packing.” Sensing dismissal, he shifted over to the other side of the bed, picking up a magazine to read. “Elias, don’t read other people’s letters while I’m packing, that’s so rude!” Through the buzzing cicadas outside the window, mixed with her own soft reprimands, this surreal moment drifted away. This was the last day they would be together at Electra's End; in just a few days, Elias would head to Master Cedric's Academy while Little Rowan would be off to a different school, a shift that left an odd tugging feeling in the air.
Chapter 3
Rowan's new home was on the ground floor, and today after school, she ran into Uncle Alden Berrington at the entrance of the hall as he was coming out of the garage. “Hey, Uncle Alden!” she greeted cheerfully. “Rowan, you're back from school! I haven’t seen you around to play with Elias lately,” he replied. “My mom signed me up for weekend tutoring classes, so I won’t be free,” Rowan explained. “I think that boy Elias should join some classes too; he’s out running wild all the time. You should come up to play next time!” “Sure, I’ll come by whenever I have time,” she said, hopeful for their next encounter. Elias lived in the penthouse; his family had bought both the 22nd and 23rd floors and combined them into a duplex. It was rumored that Elias’s dad and her dad were old colleagues, and after Rowan's father passed away, Uncle Alden switched careers to the construction materials business, which had flourished since then. For context, it’s important to note that Little Rowan had never met her father. He had been on a business trip in the mountains during her mother's pregnancy when he tragically died in a car accident. That night, he was gone forever. After his death, Rowan’s mother, Lady Seraphina Chenery, had burned every photo of him, almost to erase any evidence that he had ever existed. It wasn’t until her senior year of high school that Lady Seraphina finally confessed to Rowan that her dad, when he was alive, hadn’t been a good person and had caused her a lot of pain. She mused whether it was fate or mere chance that had taken him away. Little Rowan felt lost, torn between loving her mother yet yearning for the father she had never known. The only image she had of "father" was the blurred black-and-white photo she saw on his gravestone every year during the memorial on Tomb Sweeping Day. The gravestone was the only place their names intertwined, a silent testament to a familial bond unfulfilled. This Saturday afternoon, she was set to go to the Artisan’s Studio to work on her drawing, a decision she had made herself. Rowan loved sketching; she adored the sensation of her pencil gliding over the textured paper, pressing down hard and feeling her hand get coated with graphite, leaving a greasy, shimmery sheen behind. The art teacher praised her talent, saying she could seriously consider pursuing a career in the arts. She relayed this to her mother, who, while washing dishes, replied, “Don’t even think about it.” With that, Rowan’s first dream of becoming an artist was crushed without a second thought. When her college professor asked the class why they chose their major, some replied they didn’t get into their first choice, others said they just filled it in randomly, while some admitted their parents had chosen for them. However, not a single person in that room of over thirty students answered that they chose their field for the sake of their dreams. Rowan wondered if every child had their dreams, and if so, they often encountered two scenarios: One was that in narrative essays about "My Dream," telling a story about wanting to be a painter would score far lower than when one wrote about aspiring to contribute to the nation’s rise. From childhood, they weighed benefits and risks. The other scenario was telling parents about wanting to become an artist. The overwhelming majority of parents would dissuade them, insisting they focus on their studies, claiming being an artist had no “future.” Only a lucky few would receive words of encouragement from their parents. The inability to voice dreams made it impossible to discuss them. Family education was the first lesson in a child’s life, and many parents were either absent or failed the test entirely. As the studio slowly emptied out, the teacher left early. It was usual that the last person to leave was responsible for closing the studio door. When Rowan finally rose to grab her sketch folder, she released the tight grip she had on her sweatshirt’s hem. “Rowan, you’re still here?” “I just need to finish this last bit, and then I’ll head home. I’ll lock up behind me.”
Chapter 4
"You've already done a great job. The sun is about to set; you should head home soon." "It's fine, I'll leave in a bit." "Alright, I’ll head out first. See you next week." "Yeah, bye! Be careful on your way." Watching Lucia White's figure disappear down the staircase, Rowan Chenery was about to get up when she heard hurried footsteps approaching. "You’re really still in the studio," it was Elias Berrington. "What brings you here?" she thought, wishing he wasn’t around at such an awkward moment. "I went to your house looking for you. Your mom said you hadn't come back yet, so she told me to check the studio. Why haven’t you left? It looks like everyone’s gone." "Well... actually, I wanted to borrow your Grandmother's hoodie." "What do you need Grandma’s hoodie for? Aren't you warm enough in that sweatshirt?" He unzipped his jacket, pulled off the black hoodie, and tossed it to her, revealing a plain black T-shirt underneath. "Uh, well… you know..." How could she explain that it coincided with her first period? "What do you mean ‘you know’? Why are you hesitating?" "Ah… it’s just something that girls experience." Elias wasn’t dull; when he connected the dots, a flush blossomed from his neck to his ears. "Turn around," he said, twisting like a robot to face away from her. With his attention diverted, she stood up from the chair, her blue paint-splattered stool marked with faint bloodstains. Tying the borrowed hoodie around her waist, she sighed with relief. If she were alone, she wouldn’t know how to leave the studio. Perhaps there was a kind of telepathy between intimate people. Once she had cleaned up, Elias Berrington waited for her at the studio door, clutching his portfolio. It was sunset now, casting half his face in warm golden light while the other half fell into shadow. As Rowan walked beside him, she noticed that in less than a month, he had grown taller than her. "How did you get so tall all of a sudden?" "Did I?" "You did! We were almost the same height before." She paused, holding her hand up to measure, barely reaching his ear. "Maybe it’s from playing basketball. With more exercise, you could grow taller too." "Life is about stagnation." "Come on, when it comes to nonsense, no one can outdo you." "So, do you spend your weekends playing basketball?" "Not really, I also go to the internet café." "Better watch out. If your mom catches you, you'll be in trouble." "My parents have been busy making money and haven’t been home much. They don’t even have time to manage me," he replied, sounding bitter but aimed for a laugh. "Hey, there’s that stand selling egg pancakes nearby. Want to grab some?" Elias couldn’t quite tell if her change of subject was intentional or just a part of her quirky personality, but he went along with her to the street vendor. Rowan had always thought that Elias grew up in a blissful family. He had a dedicated dad and a loving but stern mom, which made him seem kind and approachable, someone you’d want to confide in. But she realized there was a twinge of loneliness in his voice she hadn’t noticed before. That moment led her to gradually accept that no family was perfectly happy. The closer she got to him, the more she felt as if she was peeling back layers of the supposedly glowing exterior of his life, revealing deep disappointments hidden within.
Chapter 5
The girl nervously navigated through her first period. The swelling pain in her chest felt like a caterpillar desperately struggling to emerge from its cocoon, transitioning into a butterfly, while the heaviness in her lower abdomen served as a rite of passage into womanhood. Chenery sensed that there had been changes in her body and mind, but she couldn't quite pin down what exactly had shifted. Youthful and naive, she was still figuring things out. Elias Berrington had no one at home and often came downstairs to mooch a meal. Little Seraphina Chenery regarded the adolescent in the throes of puberty as if he were a starving wolf that hadn’t eaten in three days. Their dinner spread of five dishes and a soup felt utterly extravagant. “Elias, it’s been a while since you’ve been to the Windfields for dinner, hasn’t it?” she asked. “Yeah, Agnes Windfield’s cooking just keeps getting better,” he replied, a little too flattering in a way that made Rowan roll her eyes at him. “Come on, eat up!” At the table, Little Rowan conveyed her disdain for Elias with a glare, sneaking a kick at him with her slipper beneath the table. To her surprise, he caught her foot, pinning it between his. When she noticed him sipping soup with an infuriating calmness, her annoyance deepened. After dinner, her mother had to leave for her night shift and urged them to finish their homework together before heading out. She plopped down at the desk and began working through her math exercises while Elias settled comfortably onto her bed behind her. “Don’t you have homework to do?” “The teacher doesn’t check,” he shrugged. “Is it that easy at Master Cedric's Academy?” Rowan asked, knowing it was one of the top schools in Avendale, with rigorous entrance exams and interviews. People often said getting into Master Cedric's was like securing a ticket to success because, according to Grandma’s saying, students could easily transition from middle school to high school there, and the high school was nationally recognized. “Not really, I just don’t feel like it.” Elias had always been gifted with his studies, seemingly breezing through school. After just a few nights of studying, he passed the entrance exams effortlessly. Rowan couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. “We have midterms coming up. Aren’t you worried about your ranking?” “Sounds like we have to, yeah,” he replied casually. “Then why aren’t you cramming right now?” “I’ve got it all memorized already,” Elias said confidently. “You’re quite the self-assured one.” “Do you believe me or not?” “Does it matter whether I believe you?” “Chenery, how about we make a bet?” He grinned mischievously, clearly up to no good. “A bet regarding what?” “If I land in the top ten, you have to agree to one thing I’ll ask.” “And if you lose?” “I can agree to something for you, too.” “If you lose, you’ll have to give me your Gundam model.” “Aren't you the one who doesn’t play with Gundam? That’s a pretty mean thing to wish for.” “Because it’s fun to take something you love, and let you taste the sting of defeat.” "Well, I might just surprise you." “What do you want if you win?” Elias leaned closer, whispering in her ear. “No way.” “Why not? I’m making it fair here.” “It’s hardly worth looking at; why would you want to see that?” “I can’t help it; you’re just making me think you’re afraid I’ll actually win.” He feigned a hurt expression, pouting. “Fine... fine.” Little Rowan bravely accepted the wager, all the while not truly believing he could place in the top ten. Sure, Elias was smart, but Master Cedric's was filled with bright students – she doubted he could easily surpass everyone else. Days passed, and whether he really took studying seriously or was simply that intelligent, two weeks later, he knocked at her door with his report card. When she glanced at the grades—"114, 120, 120, 3"—for language arts, math, and English, along with his rank, her mouth dropped open. “Whoa, did you take the city-wide standardized tests?” “Yep, midterms always used that one.” “You seriously...” “What, don’t you admire me at all?”
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