A Witch's Promise

The pixels on the screen swam before my eyes, each one a tiny, shimmering portal into a world I was only just beginning to understand. Sonia. Her name, a whisper in the digital ether, had grown into a roar in the chambers of my heart. We’d spun a web of words across the miles, a fragile, luminous thing woven from late-night confessions and shared dreams. But now, a shadow had fallen across our nascent connection, a darkness that threatened to consume the light we’d so painstakingly kindled.

“You’re sure about this, Criselda?” Maggie’s voice, a familiar anchor in the swirling currents of my life, was laced with her usual brand of pragmatic concern. She sat across from me at my kitchen table, her brow furrowed as she studied my face, as if trying to decipher an ancient text. “Riverside is a long way from Dallas. And… well, you know. What about your husband?”

I traced the rim of my coffee mug, the ceramic cool against my fingertips. “He’s… he’s not here, Maggie. Not really. Not in the way that matters anymore.” The truth of it settled in my gut, a heavy, familiar stone. My marriage was a well-worn coat, comfortable and familiar, but with gaping holes where the warmth should have been. And now, Sonia. Sonia, who lived in a sun-drenched city I’d only seen in photographs, Sonia, with her laughter that echoed in my mind and her secrets that felt like my own.