Chapter 4: The Jealous Flame
The village's peace had a crack running through it—and that crack had a name: Camille Rousseau.
Camille had known Jace since childhood. She worked at the bakery and spent most of her days glaring toward the mountains, waiting for him to return with firewood or fish. When whispers spread that Jace was harboring a strange woman with no memory, Camille's curiosity turned to bitterness.
One evening, Camille marched up to Jace's cottage uninvited. Elle was sweeping the porch when Camille's sharp voice pierced the calm.
"She's still here?" Camille demanded, arms crossed. "Does she even know who she is?"
"She's recovering," Jace replied coolly, stepping between them.
"From what? Or are you just inventing stories now? You barely spoke to anyone for a year and now you're playing house with a lost girl?"
Elle turned to go inside, heart pounding.
"Let her be, Camille," Jace warned.
"She'll leave you," Camille sneered. "They always do."
But Elle didn't leave. That night, Jace apologized. "Camille's... complicated."
Elle gave a sad smile. "I get it. Maybe I'm complicated too."