Whispers from the Weaver's Loom

Previously

…“I… I’d love to, Elias,” she managed, a genuine smile spreading across her face. This felt… right. More right than the awkward overtures of Mr. Abernathy or the competitive charm of Leo Vance. As she left the bookshop, the twilight scarf felt a little less potent, a little less necessary. The warmth it gave off seemed to be fading, replaced by a different kind of heat, one that originated from within. She’d been so focused on the loom’s promise of a fairytale, she’d almost missed the quiet, genuine story unfolding right beside her. The loom had whispered, yes, but it was Elias’s quiet invitation that truly resonated. The magic, she was beginning to suspect, wasn’t entirely in the threads.