The Conflict of Peace

The first thing Stacy noticed when she woke up was how comfortable she felt.

Well, maybe "comfortable" wasn't quite the right word. Comfortable sounded too ordinary for what she was experiencing. This was something deeper than that. Something warmer. Something that seemed to settle into her bones and make the rest of the world feel very far away.

Something better.

Something more complete.

She was lying in bed with Evan, curled against him with her arms wrapped around his body. His warmth seeped through the thin fabric of her green nightie, and for once she wasn't thinking about what any of it meant. She wasn't thinking about the magic, or the potion, or the impossible changes that had been forced into her life.

She was simply there.

With him.

Evan. The young man who had brought the first magical potion into their home. The young man who apparently hadn't learned his lesson and had brought a second one in, too. The young man who had once been her stepson, but who this bizarre new reality insisted was something else entirely.

Her ambition.

Her purpose.

The person around whom everything seemed determined to revolve.

She didn't love him. Whatever else the magic had done to her, whatever strange feelings it had created or encouraged, the person underneath all of it was still Stacy. The same woman who had been frustrated with Evan. The same woman who had resented his arrogance, his carelessness, and the endless complications he seemed to drag into her life.

Those feelings hadn't disappeared.

If anything, the fact that she was lying here peacefully with him made them more confusing.

Because she wanted to love him. That was the horrible part. Stacy had experienced what loving Evan felt like twice now. Once when the first potion had rewritten her feelings, and once in the dream that had shown her a version of herself who had never known anything but happiness with him. Both times, the feeling had been so complete that there hadn't seemed to be any room for doubt.

That was what she wanted. More than anything, she wanted that feeling back. She just had no idea how to make it happen. There was no switch inside her that she could flip. She couldn't simply decide to love someone and expect her heart to obey. She couldn't become a different woman just because the magic had decided that woman was supposed to exist.

It felt like staring through a one-way mirror at a life she could have had. She could see how beautiful it was. She could see how happy she might have been. And she could see, reflected faintly in the glass, the woman she actually was. The woman who couldn't get there.

"Evan," she said finally.

The word came reluctantly. Stacy almost hated herself for saying it. For just a little longer, she wanted to stay exactly where she was. She wanted to enjoy the strange peace of waking up beside him without asking questions about what it meant. She wanted to pretend this was simply her life and that there was nothing waiting for her outside the bedroom.

Unfortunately, she knew better. She couldn't stay in bed forever.

Evan's eyes opened. He looked at her for a moment before giving a quiet sigh.

"Hey."

Neither of them moved.

Evan was naked beneath the blankets, while Stacy was still wearing her green nightie, but the situation barely registered anymore. She had been put into far more vulnerable situations with him since the potion had turned her life upside down. Compared with everything else she had endured, simply lying beside him while he was naked hardly seemed worth noticing.

It was almost funny how quickly her standards had changed. A week ago, the thought would have been horrifying. Now it was barely worth a second thought.

"Hey," Stacy replied. "We need to get up."

"I know."

He didn't move. Stacy didn't either. Could he feel it too? That was the question that suddenly mattered. Maybe Evan was experiencing the same impossible sensation she was. Maybe waking up together had somehow created its own little pocket of peace, a place where the rest of the madness couldn't quite reach them.

Completely at peace.

Completely comfortable.

Completely...

Complete.

"It's hard," Evan said eventually.

Stacy frowned.

"What?"

His face coloured almost immediately.

"I don't mean..." He stopped, clearly realizing how that sounded. "Not my... You know. That's not what I mean."

Despite everything, Stacy almost smiled.

"What do you mean, then?"

"It's hard to get up." Evan glanced down at the blankets, then back at her. "It feels good just being here. With you."

The smile disappeared. Stacy didn't answer immediately. Part of her wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him that this was his fault. That he had no right to enjoy any of this. That he had brought the potion into their home, had made choices he couldn't possibly understand, and had somehow dragged her into a life she had never wanted. He shouldn't be allowed to lie there feeling happy about it, feeling the amazing tranquility that she was enjoying.

Yet the anger wouldn't come. Whatever argument she tried to make, she knew exactly where it would lead. Nowhere. If she wanted anything in her situation to change, she had to start with the only thing she could still control.

Herself.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I get it."

For another few minutes, neither of them spoke.

Eventually Stacy forced herself to ask, "Where's Debbie?"

"She was gone when I woke up." Evan's voice remained soft. "I've been lying here for a while. I didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks."

There was no fight in her voice. She meant it.

Having Debbie in the room would have ruined this. Debbie was supposed to be her best friend. Or had been, before reality had apparently decided that Debbie should become Evan's girlfriend and treat Stacy like some sort of possession. The idea of having Debbie standing nearby, smiling and acting as though everything about this situation was perfectly normal, made Stacy's stomach tighten. Here, alone with Evan, she could almost forget.

"I'm glad, though," Evan said. "I mean, I don't want to make it weird, but being here with you feels..."

"I know."

The interruption came quickly. Stacy wasn't sure she wanted to hear the rest. She had spent enough time trying to understand what Evan was feeling. If he started putting those feelings into words, she was afraid she might have to confront what she was feeling too.

"But we do need to get up," she continued. "I don't know what today is going to bring, but if it's anything like yesterday, we're going to have to deal with it together."

Evan looked at her.

"Okay."

A pause.

"Together."

The word settled between them.

Stacy took a deep breath and gathered every bit of willpower she had. Then she slid her hands away from Evan's bare skin and rolled onto her back.

The effect was immediate. Something inside her seemed to fall away. It wasn't pain. At least, not in the ordinary sense. Nothing hurt. There was no sudden magical punishment, no sharp sensation warning her that she had done something wrong. Instead, Stacy felt an enormous emptiness. It was almost existential, like she'd left a piece of herself behind on the other side of the bed.

She stared at the ceiling. For one terrible moment, every instinct told her to roll back.

Just do it.

Get comfortable again.

Forget the rest of the world.

Stacy resisted. Rolling away had been difficult enough. If she turned back now, she wasn't sure she would ever manage to get out of bed.

"There," she said, mostly to herself. "Okay. That wasn't so hard."

She knew she was lying. Behind her, Evan shifted. The mattress moved as he sat up, followed by the sound of him rubbing his face.

"I'm pretty sure it was."

Stacy glanced over her shoulder.

"That was brutal," he continued. "Did you feel that emptiness just now?"

"I don't want to think about it."

Sitting up required another effort of will. Stacy swung her legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet on the floor.

Cold.

Unpleasant.

Real.

She almost appreciated it.

"Some things we can't change," she said. "But staying in bed forever isn't an option."

"Fine."

Evan sounded disappointed. That shouldn't have bothered her. It did. For a moment, Stacy wanted nothing more than to turn around, pull him into her arms, and tell him that everything was going to be all right. The urge was so strong that she nearly acted on it.

Then the anger returned. Quietly, but unmistakably. She was still angry at him. She was still angry about everything he had done. And underneath that anger was something even more frustrating: the knowledge that she wanted to be the kind of woman who took care of him when he felt like this.

She just didn't know how to become her. That woman had existed. She had been real. Stacy had felt her. But she wasn't that woman now.

Could she become her? The thought came before she could stop it. Maybe pretending would be enough. Maybe if she acted as though she loved Evan, acted as though she wanted to comfort him, acted as though being his woman was something she had chosen, eventually her heart would catch up. Maybe the magic didn't need to do all the work. Maybe she could meet it halfway.

Stacy immediately rejected the idea.

No.

That wasn't how this worked. If she started pretending, she would only make things worse. Every affectionate gesture would become another lie. Every time she forced herself to smile, another little piece of resentment would build inside her. Eventually she wouldn't just resent Evan. She'd resent herself.

No, there was only one thing that could make this work. It had to be real.

Really real.

Not a potion. Not a dream. Not some magical compulsion that disappeared the moment reality changed again.

Real.

Like what she had felt for Evan's father. David hadn't needed magic to win her heart. He had simply put in the effort. He had learned who she was, what she wanted, what mattered to her. He had made her feel seen. He had made her want him.

Why couldn't Evan do that? Why couldn't he put in the effort?

Stacy looked down at her hands, thinking. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Evan simply didn't know how. The idea was almost ridiculous. Evan had spent so much time trying to solve the magic that perhaps he'd never stopped to consider that there might be another way to reach her.

Maybe he needed to be shown. Maybe she could teach him. Not how to manipulate her. Not how to use the magic against her. Not how to force her into feeling something she didn't feel. How to be her man. How to make her want him. How to give her a reason to choose him.

For the first time that morning, Stacy felt something that wasn't resignation. It was a tiny, fragile thread of hope. She didn't know if it would work. She didn't know if Evan was capable of doing what she needed. And she certainly didn't know whether the magic would allow either of them enough freedom to find out.

But perhaps there was a way in.

If the magic would let her find it.