After nearly a full day of exhausting travel, Hana finally arrived in England.
The moment she stepped out of the terminal, a rush of cool air hit her—so different from the suffocating weight she left behind.
And there they were.
Her grandparents stood near the arrivals gate, eyes scanning every face. The instant they spotted her, their expressions lit up with a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief.
Hana's steps quickened.
They looked different—older, more fragile than she remembered. The years had carved lines into their faces, their backs a little more stooped, their movements slower.
For a second, her breath caught. Had it really been that long?
She didn't remember them being this small. This tired.
Emotion welled up in her chest as she rushed into their arms. Her grandmother hugged her tightly, whispering her name over and over like a prayer.
Her grandfather stood silently, hand trembling slightly as he gently patted her head.
Tears stung Hana's eyes before she could stop them.
She hadn't expected this. The warmth. The welcome. The way they held her like someone who had been lost and finally found.
"Welcome home, darling," her grandmother whispered. "You're safe now."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Hana let herself believe it.
====
Life in England turned out to be everything Hana hadn't known she needed.
After the storm she left behind, the quiet countryside and warm embrace of her grandparents felt like a balm to her battered soul.
Their home, nestled near the edge of a small village with ivy-covered walls and the scent of rosemary always hanging in the air, became her refuge. It was their vacation home far away from the bustling city life. And she like it that way.
It was far from the grand houses and glittering galas she had once been forced to attend. Here, no one whispered behind her back.
No one questioned her worth. Her grandparents loved her with no strings attached, and for the first time in years, she felt like she belonged.
Each day began with breakfast in their sunlit kitchen, her grandfather humming old tunes while her grandmother carefully buttered her toast. They asked about her day, encouraged her to rest, to explore the village, to go at her own pace.
Sometimes, she helped in the garden. Sometimes, she curled up with a book near the fire. And sometimes, she just stared out the window and let the silence hold her. Peaceful. Steady. Kind.
Hana was healing.
So when her grandmother brought up the Carlstons' invitation, Hana hesitated.
"Just a small gathering," her grandmother said gently. "For Stephen's birthday. Nothing fancy. Old friends and family. No press, no strangers. You remember the Carlstons, don't you?"
The name stirred something distant. A flash of summer afternoons and big houses, of shy smiles and stiff family dinners.
Yes. She remembered Stephen Carlston. Or at least the version of him that existed in her childhood memories.
He had been older—by four years, maybe more. A boy with too-serious eyes and a permanent frown, who always sat in the corner reading while the other kids played. He never joined in, never laughed too loudly. Just watched.
Sometimes, he gave her the tiniest nod when she passed by. She used to avoid him, intimidated by his quietness and the sharpness in his gaze.
They had only spent one summer in the same place. Then her family returned home, and that was the last she saw of him.
Until now.
"It's really nothing big," her grandfather added, reading the hesitation on her face. "Stephen's parents invited us as family. It'll do you good to be around nice people for a change."
Hana had smiled weakly. She hadn't attended a party since . . . since everything. The last time she stepped into a room full of expensive perfume and polite smiles, it had ended in whispered accusations and real pain.
But this was different, she told herself. These were her grandparents' friends. People who didn't see her as an inconvenience or a threat.
So, she agreed.
The day of the party, she kept her outfit simple. A soft blue dress her grandmother picked out, light makeup, hair tied neatly back. Nothing flashy. Just enough to be polite.
The Carlston estate was grander than she remembered. Sleek, modern renovations added to the charm of the old stone house.
Staff welcomed them at the entrance, but true to her grandparents' words, it wasn't a lavish affair. Maybe twenty people at most, seated across the garden under soft lighting and gentle music.
The atmosphere was warm, familiar, and free of the performative tension she had grown used to.
Still, Hana felt her stomach twist the moment they stepped in.
Old habits died hard. Her eyes scanned the crowd instinctively, her shoulders stiff, waiting for the first suspicious glance. But none came.
Instead, she was greeted with warm smiles, friendly nods. Some recognized her, others didn't. And no one seemed to care.
Then, she saw him.
Stephen Carlston.
No longer the quiet, bookish boy tucked in a corner. He stood near the end of the garden, tall and composed in a dark suit, speaking quietly with a group of older guests.
He looked exactly how she imagined he would grow up—sharply dressed, precise, still carrying that aura of quiet authority. His expression hadn't changed much. Still serious. Still distant.
But when his gaze swept the garden and landed on her, he stopped.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, Hana froze. Something stirred in her chest—not nerves, not fear. Recognition.
Stephen nodded slightly. Then, to her surprise, he excused himself and began walking toward her.
"You've grown," he said simply when he reached her. His voice was deeper now, but still carried that same calm, composed tone.
Hana blinked. "So have you."
He gave a ghost of a smile. "I almost didn't recognize you. But you still look like the girl who avoided me every time we shared a room."
She laughed softly, the tension in her spine loosening. "You were scary. Always reading and glaring."
"I wasn't glaring. I just didn't like noise."
"That's what scary people say."
Another flicker of amusement passed through his eyes. "You're braver now."
She tilted her head. "I grew up."
Stephen didn't respond right away. He studied her for a moment longer, as if seeing something behind her smile. Then, he offered his hand.
"Come on. There's cake."
Hana laughed. "Really? That's how you pick up girls?"
Stephen only smirked. "I don't. You're the first."
Hana laughed a little. "That explains it." She hesitated, then placed her hand in his.