They met at the crossroad. They barely nodded at each other. He hadn’t seen her before. And likely, neither had she seen him.
He returned to his thoughts. He was already tired and tried to ignore the noise around—people moving the same way, toward the village, as the dusk was slowly falling on them.
As they neared the village, the path narrowed, and they suddenly had to walk side by side.
Walking next to her, he started to feel unsettled. He started to feel strange. He knew it was because of her, though he couldn’t say why. He tried to sense more clearly the message of the energy that was reaching him. What was it about? Was she silently calling him? But why would she? She barely knew him. Was he too open to her energy because he was worn by the day? It made no sense to him…
The pull grew stronger—and he couldn't resist it, nor did he want to. It was too strong for him to ignore.
Having heard her speak a different language earlier, he asked her in her language if she spoke his. He didn’t mean to be impolite—he was just tired from his walks, and the words of her language didn’t come to his tongue fluently. His accent sounded worn too. She nodded, almost as if she had been waiting for him to answer her call.
He offered that she can address him not as a stranger, as he didn’t like formalities. But she kindly declined. He didn’t insist, letting her stay her way.
They didn’t speak for long. Yet she revealed her pains, her doubts, her fears, even some of her imperfections to him.
Despite all her pain, she felt calm with him. He felt her ache to share her wounds with him. He felt she was trusting him. There was no mask she wore. She was just… herself… with him. Even though she carried pain deep within… Even though they had just met… Even though the path they shared so far was just a few steps long…
He was confused… yet the energy he felt was very calming… very real… and very rare.
And… strangely… he felt how she amplified the good in him—he just felt how it was growing within him, as if her light, though veiled, was magnifying his own. He couldn’t remember feeling something like that before. He was deeply touched by her presence, and the quiet way she carried herself. Strong, and yet fragile at the same time. As if she had laid herself with trust in his arms.
With all that she shared with him, he received her the way she was, with deep care and understanding… he honored her the way she was… the pure energy that she revealed to him.
As they reached the village, their paths diverged. But he remained moved—by the strength of her light, even though wounded, by her way of being, by her pure energy.