Karim's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Karim spent the next three days building. He requisitioned materials from the workshop, called in favors from crew members, and designed something he'd never bothered creating before: a structure meant to impress someone specific. The result stood near the stone circle by morning—an architectural installation combining form and function, complete with rotating panels that caught the light and created geometric shadows on the snow. By noon, half the camp had gathered. People pointed at the arch with its cascading crystals that chimed with each gust of wind. Camera crews circled, capturing every angle. Karim stood beside his creation, answering questions about load-bearing design and wind resistance calculations he'd actually researched. His pulse quickened when she finally approached—but she only paused long enough to study the arch's foundation, noted the crystals served no structural purpose, and walked away without a word. The crowd loved his spectacle. She saw right through it. Karim watched her disappear toward the northern cabins and understood: she didn't want proof he could create something impressive. She wanted proof he could create something real. He dismantled the arch that evening, working alone in the dark. The elegant wine set he'd positioned nearby sat untouched, two glasses still waiting for a toast that would never happen. Karim packed away the crystals and metal beams, each piece a reminder that he'd built the wrong thing. The diary's words echoed in his head—build something that matters. Spectacle was easy. Purpose was something else entirely. He carried the last beam back to the workshop and left the wine on the table for whoever wanted it. Tomorrow, he'd start over. This time, he'd build something she might actually stop for.