It's the night that never ends, filled with flowers, fresh strawberries, and little frogs. By now, the berries, served with whipped cream and a dusting of powdered sugar, are eaten and the frogs have stopped dancing. Only the endless Midsummer night remains, with its promises and threats.

"Do you want to take a walk with me, Viola?" Erik asks, his eyes dazed from beer consumption.

I do not. I don't even want him to be here in the first place. It was Rebecka, who is nodding for me to take his hand and follow into the fields, that made sure he came along. Erik is the brother of her boyfriend, Johan, and she always talks about how good of a match we would be. I suppose that's why she invited him to our Midsummer celebration.

Those invites weren't hers to give but she doesn't care. She never has. I suppose it was her idea that we should celebrate Midsummer here in the first place though, although the cottage belongs to my grandparents. That's how it's always been, ever since we were kids. Rebecka comes up with ideas and I agree to them. I'm her very own yes woman, but I have no opinions of my own.

Taking a sip of my wine, I postpone giving Erik an answer. I know what he wants us to do—the walk is just an excuse to engage in tongue tag behind the barn—but I do not want to play along.

Fadime saves me. "Didn't you say you wanted to go pick flowers?" she asks. "Like that old tale you told me about, the one your grandma used to tell you about."

When it was only us two here before Rebecka, Johan, and Erik arrived, and the hustle and bustle with them, I did tell her that. That's when I still had opinions, without them being quenched by Queen Rebecka's presence. I confided in my newfound friend—who I invited after connecting at university—that I've always wanted to try it once. A Swedish tale from the olden days tells maidens to pick seven flowers during the Midsummer night and put them underneath their pillow. Supposedly, you will then dream of the one you're to marry. At least that's what grandma said when stroking my hair when I dozed into dreams during humid summer days, always spent with her here at the cottage.

"I did..." I hesitate, caught between the one I used to be, Rebecka's faithful minion, and the one I'm becoming, Fadime's free-spirited friend. "It's probably silly though."

"It didn't sound silly to me." Fadime smiles at me. "Come on, it won't take long."

I take her hand and she whisks me away into the blossoming fields. I don't have time to protest or dilly-dally. "We'll be back," I have time to mutter toward Erik before the greenery comes to my rescue. Because even though I don't care for him, I can't escape my instinct toward politeness.