Third Person's POV
Three years ago, she had stood in this very place. Back then, everything about Tanzania had been new and fascinating to her. She would often wander through the mountains and lose herself in the scenery.
But the weather in the region was unpredictable, and heavy rain quickly turned the world into swamp, obscuring landmarks and directions.
One day, she had walked alone through the mountain for hours, unable to find her way back to camp. It wasn’t until midnight that Terence, with a flashlight in hand, found her drenched in the valley.
After that incident, Terence insisted she learn navigation skills, but no matter how hard she tried, the techniques were too complicated for her to grasp.
Finally, in exasperation, Terence made her a custom compass. It wasn’t just a compass—it had a built-in tracker and an alarm. “Whenever you’re lost, just press the red button, and I’ll come find you,” he’d said.
Halle set down the empty cup in her hand and moved closer to the fire, letting the warmth seep into her. Before she realized it, she had dozed off at the wooden table, her hand still clutching the compass that hung around her neck.
Soon, the sound of cheering woke her. She stirred groggily and noticed a coat had been draped over her shoulders. But as she sat up, it slipped to the floor. So, she picked it up and then left it on the chair.
Stepping outside, she saw fireworks lit up the night sky, drawing bursts of excitement from the crowd gathered there.
Not long after, Darlene spotted her and immediately pulled her into the celebration. “Come on, have some barley wine and enjoy the fireworks with us!” she invited, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
“It’s a party for Terence,” Darlene explained, pouring her a drink. “This mission couldn’t have succeeded without him.”
The haze of confusion in Halle’s mind cleared instantly. She then felt Terence’s gaze from across the crowd and turned to meet his eyes.
But just as their gazes locked, Terence raised his cup, looked away, and downed his drink. He always avoided her like this. He’d been like that for years.
She thought back to the man who once taught her how to navigate by the stars, took her to see the beauty of the mountains, and crafted a one-of-a-kind compass just for her.
Two years ago, on her last day of service in Tanzania, she had hoped things between them might change.
They’d stood together beneath a sprawling sky full of stars. In the distance, the mountains glittered in the moonlight, and the faint sound of grazing sheep filled the air. Terence had been explaining the path of that night’s meteor shower when she turned to him.
“Terence,” she’d said softly, “I’m not leaving.”
She remembered clearly how the light in his eyes dimmed.
“Why would you stay here?” he replied firmly. “This is no place for a young woman. Go back while you can.”
But she saw through his words and reached for his hand. “I want to stay with you. I want us to be together.”
But to her surprise, he shook her hand off and turned away, leaving her with nothing but his back.
“I’m not gonna be with you. Don’t even think about it,” he said without a hint of hesitation.
From that moment on, it was as if a wall had risen between them.
He became a door she could never open, a hand that always slipped from hers, a conversation that was cut short before it could begin. He avoided her gaze like it was a burden he didn’t want to carry.
Just then, a sudden noise snapped her back to the present, and only then did he feel a lightness around her neck. She instinctively reached for her compass—only to find it missing.
Her eyes darted down, and there it was, lying at her feet. But she saw the needle had stopped moving. She knelt quickly to pick it up, but a dancer in the crowd accidentally stepped on her hand, grinding sand into her scraped skin. The sting quickly shot up her arm.
Before she could react, a large hand reached down and picked up the compass.
Startled, she looked up to see Terence standing right in front of her, his face closer than she expected.
Suddenly, a wave of frustration surged through her chest. Maybe it was anger at his recklessness the day before, or the way he had unfairly scolded her earlier that morning. Maybe it was the way he had just avoided her gaze at the celebration—or maybe it was the barley wine amplifying her buried grievances.
Without thinking, she snatched the compass out of his hand.
