It was late evening when Evelyn Bellamy sat alone in the corner of the Magdalen Bridge Boathouse, her hands trembling as she carefully folded the red scarf. The delicate silk fabric felt cool against her fingers, its deep crimson hue rich with the weight of the memories it carried. It had been a gift—a symbol of their bond, of promises made in the quiet moments of their secret meetings. Now, as she folded it with practiced precision, it felt like the last thing she could hold onto.
Margaret had never been one for public displays of affection, and so they had created their own language—one woven from stolen touches, whispered words, and quiet, meaningful objects. The red scarf was one such object. Evelyn could still remember the first time Margaret had placed it around her neck, her fingers brushing against Evelyn's skin as the silk settled softly, like a lover's caress. It had been a token of their love, and now, it felt like the final vestige of something that was slipping away.
Evelyn glanced up at the darkening sky, the silhouette of the trees across the river barely visible in the growing dusk. The mist that rolled off the water made the night feel timeless, as though the world around her had stopped turning. But that wasn't true, was it? She could feel time pressing in, the ticking of the clock louder now than it ever had been before.
They had been meeting in secret for nearly a year now. She and Margaret, though their lives could not have been more different, had forged something strong, something that even the weight of their respective worlds could not easily break. Margaret—quiet, fierce, and distant, a woman who lived in the shadows of Oxford's grand traditions, always too cautious to be seen. And Evelyn—young, bright, and ambitious, but always too visible, too eager to make a name for herself. Together, they had built something that felt unbreakable.
But Evelyn knew that something had shifted. Margaret was no longer the same woman she had fallen for in the quiet library corners or beneath the moonlit walks through the botanic gardens. The late-night talks that had once felt so intimate now seemed to be filled with tension. Margaret had grown distant, her eyes clouded with something Evelyn couldn't quite place.
She pushed these thoughts aside, focusing on the scarf in her hands. If she was being honest, Evelyn didn't fully understand the significance of the scarf until that moment. Margaret had always kept it close, and in the stillness of their moments together, it became something more than just fabric. It was a promise—a piece of them both, bound in red. A final thread connecting them when everything else seemed destined to unravel.
The cold air drifted into the boathouse, and Evelyn shivered, wrapping the scarf around her shoulders for warmth. She had been waiting for Margaret, but the hours had passed without any sign of her. The sky had turned an inky shade of blue, and the stillness of the water mirrored the unease in Evelyn's chest. Why hadn't Margaret arrived yet?
As Evelyn moved to the window, she saw a figure approaching in the distance, silhouetted against the mist. Her heart quickened, but the figure wasn't Margaret. Instead, a man, tall with a cane, made his way through the mist. His slow gait, the way he leaned heavily on the cane, made him appear almost frail, but there was something in his presence that sent a chill through Evelyn's spine.
The man stopped just outside the door of the boathouse, standing still for a moment as if waiting for something. Evelyn's pulse raced. Why was he here? Who was he? The fog thickened around them, and Evelyn felt her stomach twist. The man didn't move, and the silence felt suffocating.
It was then that she realized he was looking directly at her.
Evelyn quickly turned away from the window, clutching the scarf tightly against her chest as if its warmth could protect her. What was it about this man that unsettled her so? She had never seen him before, but his eyes—those eyes—seemed all too familiar. His gaze held something cold and calculating, as though he knew exactly who she was and what she was hiding.
The door creaked open suddenly, and Evelyn jumped. Margaret stepped inside, her pale face illuminated by the dim light. Her eyes were wide, but she looked relieved to see Evelyn.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Margaret said quietly, her voice strained. "I couldn't get away from the house. My father—he's growing more suspicious." She paused, her eyes darting toward the window where the man had stood. "Who was that man?"
Evelyn hesitated, her hands still gripping the red scarf. "I—I don't know. But he was watching us."
Margaret moved swiftly to her side, placing a reassuring hand on Evelyn's arm. "You're sure? He didn't follow you, did he?"
Evelyn shook her head, her heart racing. "I don't think so. But he… he knows something, Margaret. I can feel it." She exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of the night press in. "This… this isn't just about us anymore. Someone's watching."
Margaret's expression darkened. "Who?"
Evelyn's eyes flickered back to the window, though the man had long since disappeared. "I don't know, but I'm not going to wait around to find out." She turned, gathering her coat and the red scarf. "This has gone on long enough, Margaret. We need to leave Oxford. We need to go somewhere no one knows us, no one can find us."
Margaret's eyes widened. "Leave? But Evelyn, everything—"
"No." Evelyn cut her off. "It's the only way. We can't keep living like this. Not with people like him watching us." Her voice was firm now, a quiet determination taking hold. She had made up her mind.
Margaret seemed to hesitate for a moment, then nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You're right," she said softly. "We'll go. But where will we go?"
Evelyn smiled faintly, feeling a small sense of relief wash over her. "Somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from here."
She took Margaret's hand, squeezing it tightly, and as they stepped out into the cold night, Evelyn knew that their world was about to change forever. But the red scarf would always remain, a silent witness to everything they had shared, everything they had lost, and everything they were about to risk.