Seven years was a long time.
Lucy had been eighteen when she left home.
Now, at twenty-five, she stood in the middle of the crowded arrival hall with two suitcases beside her and wondered why returning frightened her more than leaving ever had.
People moved around her in every direction. Families waited behind the barriers, children ran toward returning parents, and someone nearby was already crying before the person they were waiting for had properly stepped through the doors.
Lucy lowered her eyes.
Her phone vibrated.
Grandmother
Lucy answered immediately.
"Grandmother."
"Where are you?"
"I just got my luggage."
"You landed almost half an hour ago."
Lucy smiled faintly.
"There was a queue."
"Come outside."
"I'm coming."
"And don't carry everything yourself."
Lucy looked down at her luggage.
"I've carried them this far."
There was a pause.
"You've been away too long."
The words were quieter than the rest.
Lucy's fingers tightened around the phone.
"I'm outside in a minute."
The call ended.
Lucy stared at the screen.
Some things apparently never changed.
She slid her phone into her coat pocket and began walking toward the exit.
She had completed her master's degree.
Closed her apartment.
Packed the parts of her life worth bringing home and given away everything else.
She was twenty-five now.
Not fourteen.
Not the frightened girl who had once sat silently in a hospital corridor waiting for someone to tell her that the doctors had made a mistake.
They hadn't.
Her mother had died first.
Her father several hours later.
Her parents had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Eleanor had survived.
They hadn't.
For years Lucy had asked herself why it had happened.
Eventually, she learned there were questions that only hurt more the longer one searched for answers.
So she stopped searching.
Flashes, mostly.
Black clothes.
Flowers.
Adults whispering whenever she entered a room.
Her aunt's irritated voice whenever Lucy cried at night.
"Stop crying. Crying won't bring them back."
Eleanor sitting beside her during the funeral, holding Lucy's frozen hand between both of hers.
I will take care of you.
She had kept that promise.
Perhaps too well.
Lucy pushed the thought aside.
Today was not a day for ghosts.
The automatic doors opened.
Cold air brushed her face.
And then—
"Lucy!"
Seven years.
She had spoken to Eleanor almost every week.
Video calls. Messages. Occasional visits whenever Eleanor's health and work permitted.
Still, coming back felt different.
Lucy pulled her suitcase toward the exit.
"Grandmother."
The older woman embraced her.
Lucy closed her eyes.
For a moment, everything around them disappeared.
She remembered that perfume.
The warmth of Eleanor's arms.
The hand that had held hers through funerals, hospitals and the frightened years that followed.
When Eleanor finally pulled away, she studied Lucy's face.
"You're thin."
Lucy almost laughed.
"Hello to you too."
Eleanor touched her cheek.
"And tired."
"I've been travelling all day."
"You should have taken the flight I arranged."
"I wanted to pay for my own ticket."
Eleanor's expression tightened slightly.
Lucy knew that look.
The old argument.
The same argument they had been having since Lucy became old enough to understand how much Eleanor had spent on her education and life abroad.
Not today.
Lucy smiled and slipped her arm through Eleanor's.
"I missed you."
That ended it.
Eleanor's expression softened.
"I missed you too."
A driver approached for Lucy's luggage.
She started to protest, then stopped when Eleanor gave her a warning look.
Lucy surrendered the larger suitcase.
They began walking toward the waiting car.
Only then did Lucy notice someone standing beside it.
Her steps slowed.
A tall man in a dark suit stood near the rear door.
One hand rested in his trouser pocket.
His attention was on his phone.
Lucy recognized him immediately.
Harrison Prescott.
Eleanor's eldest grandson.
She had seen him only once properly.
One year earlier.
At her graduation.
----
Lucy had been standing outside her university auditorium surrounded by hundreds of graduates and their families.
Everyone seemed to have someone.
Parents carrying flowers.
Brothers taking photographs.
Mothers fixing graduation caps that didn't need fixing.
Lucy had told herself she didn't mind.
Eleanor had wanted desperately to attend, but her health had made the long journey impossible.
Then someone had called her name.
"Lucy Hale"
She turned.
And nearly dropped her degree.
Harrison Prescott stood behind her.
She had recognized him from photographs immediately.
Eleanor spoke about him often enough.
Her eldest grandson.
The capable one.
The quiet one.
The one who apparently considered smiling an unnecessary use of facial muscles.
"Mr Harrison?"
He gave one short nod.
Lucy stared at him, then at the bouquet in his hand.
"What are you doing here?"
Harrison said nothing at first. He simply held the flowers out to her.
Lucy blinked in surprise before taking them.
"Grandmother sent these," he said.
"Oh."
She nodded slowly.
That explained the flowers.
It did not explain him.
Was he really here for her graduation?
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence stretched.
Around them, Lucy's friends were laughing, taking photographs with their families and showing one another the pictures they had taken.
Harrison remained exactly where he was.
Straight-backed.
Expressionless.
Now empty-handed.
Lucy glanced at him again.
She had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to say.
"So…"
He looked at her.
Before Lucy could think of anything else, Harrison's gaze moved briefly toward the flowers in her arms.
"Can I take a picture of you with them?"
Lucy was caught completely off guard.
"For Grandmother," he added, already taking his phone from his pocket. "She'll want to know you received them."
"Oh."
Of course.
That made sense.
Lucy nodded quickly.
"Okay."
She didn't ask anything else.
Holding the bouquet against her graduation gown, she walked backward toward one of the trees beside the university building.
"Here?"
Harrison looked at his phone screen.
"A little left."
Lucy moved.
"My left or your left?"
"Yours."
She shifted again.
"Here?"
"Yes."
Lucy smiled.
Harrison continued staring at the screen.
After several seconds, her smile slowly disappeared.
"Did you take it?"
"No."
"Why?"
"You moved."
Lucy stared at him.
Then she gave a small, embarrassed nod.
"Okay."
This was painfully awkward.
She adjusted the bouquet, faced him properly and forced herself to remain still.
Harrison raised the phone.
Lucy smiled again.
Click.
She changed her pose slightly, holding the flowers closer.
Another click.
Harrison remained completely serious throughout, giving no indication whether the photographs were good or terrible.
By the time he lowered the phone, Lucy was almost relieved.
She walked back toward him.
Before she could say anything, Harrison's phone began to ring.
He glanced at the screen.
"I have to leave."
"Oh. Okay."
Lucy nodded slowly.
She looked down at the bouquet for a moment.
"Right."
Harrison gave her another small nod.
"Congratulations, Lucy Hale."
Then he turned and walked away.
Lucy stood beneath the trees watching him disappear into the crowd, the flowers still held against her chest.
She had been left with more questions than answers.
Only later did she learn the truth.
Harrison had never travelled there for her graduation.
He had been in the country for a business meeting, and by coincidence, his trip had fallen on the same day as her ceremony. When Eleanor discovered it, she had immediately ordered her grandson to deliver the flowers personally—and, apparently, make sure Lucy actually received them.
That explained why Harrison had been there.
It explained the bouquet.
It even explained the photograph.
Still, whenever Lucy remembered that day, she could never quite forget how strange it had felt to stand in front of Harrison Prescott's camera while he watched her with that same unreadable expression.
A year had passed, yet Lucy had never quite mustered the courage to ask Harrison for the photographs. Somehow, asking him felt far more awkward than posing for them had.