I don't know why I ended up near the Homestead. Guess my feet dragged me here.

I stop outside one of the rooms, and there she is, sitting cross-legged on the floor, head down, hands moving over something small. When she lifts it, I realize it's another one of those paper butterflies. It's like they're following her. Like they're following me.

Not in a creepy way. It's kind of nice. As if every step she takes, every movement she makes, gets followed by a colorful butterfly.

I clear my throat. She looks up. For a second, her eyes go wide. Then the usual wall goes back up. The one she's... guarding herself with.

"Another butterfly?" I ask, stepping inside.

She glances at the one she's holding. "Yeah."

The next thing I know, I'm sitting beside her, reaching for one of the scraps of paper scattered around. She shifts slightly. Not uncomfortably, but it makes my stomach twist.

I don't know if I have the right to act like we're suddenly the greatest friends of all time. I just don't want to leave.

Without a word, I start folding a butterfly of my own. I'm clumsy with it. Nowhere near as precise as hers. We sit in silence, the only sound the rustling of paper as we work.

It's comforting. Just sitting in silence, but having someone present. Being busy with my hands, too focused to think about bad things.

"Do you still remember how to do it?" She glances over.

"Yup. I am self-taught," I mimic.

Her eyes take me in for what feels like forever. They slowly gain a twinkle, and then they squint as she smiles. "Reference?"

"Of course. Listen, for a thousand years, I've only been thinking about keepin' this hair silky, getting my maps, and being awesome." I pause shortly. "But now there is nowhere you could go that I won't be with you."

"That's a little too accurate." She laughs out loud. "Okay, here is mine: I'm the village crazy lady— that's my job."

I scoff. "That might be even more accurate."

Her smile widens a bit. Something tightens in my chest as I finish up my attempt at a butterfly. "Here," I mutter, feeling a little stupid as I hand it over.

Zee stares at it for a moment, then takes it. Her fingers brush mine. "Not bad," she says.

"It's awesome," I correct.

"Damn, just when I thought the self-love was gone."

"You're supposed to have some self-love."

"You have too much."

I shrug.

"But that's okay," she quickly adds. "Your ego is in a competition with me, and I've been winning since the beginning."

"Then you must really love me a lot, if you're winning," I say. Heat spreads on my cheeks. I don't remember someone telling me they love me before— and it doesn't even matter who it is.

"I do," she confirms. She smiles, but it only lasts for a second. Then she seems to realize what she actually just said, and turns away with an alarmed expression.

I chuckle, letting her know I don't mind, even though I might not be able to say something like that back.

There's something about her that keeps me here, though. Something that keeps pulling me back, even though half the time, I don't even know why. It's not like I'm in love with her or anything like that. But it's like... I just need her around. I need her presence— her weirdness, her silence... I even need her craziness. She's a reminder that not everything here has to feel the same. That you can go backwards but can also make progress.

"When I die," she begins, quoting again, "I'm going to come back as one of these." She holds my butterfly up.

I smile, but it's a rather sad smile. "Me, too."

"No. I will cremate you," she sounds a bit snappier now. "What you do to the butterflies will also happen to you."

It takes me a second to realize what she means. "I..." I trail off, my own words echoing in my mind. Yeah, I didn't need it. Just like I don't need any of this. "I never—" stammering, I reveal the three butterflies from my pocket.

The one I first found. The one I picked up from the ground. The one she gave me.

She stares at them, running her fingers across the crumbled paper. "All this time? You've kept them all this time? None of them are burned?"

"None," my voice is quieter than I intended it to be.

"But— then why did you tell me they were?"

Ashamed, I raise my shoulders a little, muttering,"I'm really sorry."

After a moment of silence, she nods. "It's okay. We'll focus on the presence, not the past. I'm just happy they're not burned after all."

★

Over the next few days, it's like we're breaking down walls brick by brick, little by little.

Sometimes, we talk about things that don't matter at all, and somehow, those small talks are the highlights of my day. I catch myself looking for her in the mornings, waiting for her to show up with a new butterfly or some weird story about the Glade. She tells me things about herself, bits and pieces that I thought I knew but actually didn't.

I really thought her real name was Zee. Everyone calls her that. But it's Zora. I like both names.

She mentioned she would sometimes watch the sunrise every day. So one morning, when the others were still asleep, I found her on top of the Tower. I sat next to her, and we didn't say a word as the sky changed colors.

Other times, she teased me, and I easily teased her back. Then, there are nights we just sit outside, below the dark sky, not saying much, just sharing the same space. She'll fold another butterfly, I'll mess with one of my maps,

It's almost unreal how fast it goes, after everything that has happened between us before.

So, of course, I tell Newt that.

"That's because you're soulmates," he repeats once again.