𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 | f. w

25.

The plane's engines hummed a steady rhythm beneath me, the sound a stark contrast to the storm of nerves churning in my stomach. As I peered out the window, the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean gradually gave way to the familiar, rolling green hills of England. I was on my way home, and the closer I got, the more my heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

It had been four months since I'd left Iceland, four months of wandering and seeking solace in the far reaches of the world. New Zealand had been my last stop, and it had given me something unexpected—a chance to publish my book. The publishers in Wellington had been enthusiastic, their praise a balm to my battered soul. But now, as the plane began its descent, all that seemed distant and surreal. I was coming home, and that reality was overwhelming.

The plane touched down with a gentle thud, and I clutched the armrests, closing my eyes for a brief moment. Breathe, Anaïs, I told myself. You've faced tougher things than this. I repeated this mantra as I collected my bags and made my way through customs, the familiar sights and sounds of Heathrow Airport grounding me in a way that felt both comforting and unsettling.

As I stepped into the arrivals hall, my eyes scanned the crowd, half-expecting to see familiar faces. But there was no one there to greet me. No Nasrin, no Verity, no Fred. I felt a pang of disappointment but pushed it aside. It was too much to hope for, given everything that had happened.

Navigating the throng of travelers, I made my way to the exit, the crisp English air hitting me as I stepped outside. I hailed a cab, giving the driver my address. The ride home felt interminable, the landscape passing in a blur as I rehearsed in my mind what I would say to everyone. Would they be happy to see me? Would they still be angry, hurt? The uncertainty gnawed at me, but I knew I had to face it.

The cab pulled up in front of our flat, and I took a deep breath, steeling myself. I paid the driver and grabbed my bags, my steps heavy as I approached the front door. I paused for a moment, my hand hovering over the handle. Then, with a resolute push, I stepped inside.

The familiar scent of home washed over me, and I was immediately struck by a wave of nostalgia. Everything looked the same—the cozy living room, the kitchen with its mismatched chairs, even Cadmus' dog bed in the corner. It was as if time had stood still, yet I felt like a different person standing there.

I set my bags down and took a moment to steady myself. Just as I was about to call out, I heard footsteps. Nasrin appeared in the hallway, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Anaïs?" she said, her voice a mixture of disbelief and relief.

"Hey, Nas," I replied, my voice catching in my throat.

For a moment, we just stood there, staring at each other. Then she crossed the distance between us and enveloped me in a hug. I clung to her, the familiar warmth of her embrace soothing some of my fears.

"We didn't know you were coming back today," she said as she pulled back, her eyes searching my face.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," I admitted. "I've missed you all so much."

Nasrin smiled, but there was a hint of apprehension in her eyes. "We've missed you too, Anaïs. Things haven't been the same without you."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Is Verity here?"

"She'll be over later," Nasrin said, glancing at the clock. "She's been eager to see you. We all have."

I felt a rush of relief at her words, but the knot of anxiety in my chest remained. "I brought something," I said, fumbling in my bag and pulling out a copy of my book. "It's... it's published. In New Zealand. I wanted to share it with you all."