Ten Years

Chapter Thirteen

Later that day

Tilting her head back, Leïla closed her eyes as she tried to soak in the embers of the sun. The blistering heat of London's August had carried into September bringing with it record temperatures. She had read somewhere that the highs in the coming days were about to get hotter than in Marrakech.

A distinctive aroma of leaf and soil tickled her nostrils while the warm grass caressed her naked feet. She congratulated herself for wrapping her curls into a headscarf – a stylish hairdo she had finally mastered after years of sporting a halo of damp wild curls whenever a hint of humidity touched the air.

Leïla stood there with the city laid out in front of her. The sun caught the façades of the sleek modern buildings. She recognised the Shard and the Gherkin and the historical landmarks juxtaposed next to them. Warmth seeped into her weary bones, and Leïla liked the sense of being here, at last. At the top of Parliament Hill. It was his favourite spot.

She wondered if Edward had ever thought about her. No, stop wondering, she said to herself. There was nothing to wonder about. Not anymore.

Leïla had thought about him for the last ten years - even allowed herself to google him in the first months after their encounter. Well, at least some attempts were. She could still recall the moment she noticed his last name was ripped from his boarding pass before sprinting back into the arrivals Hall. It was too late. He was nowhere to be found. Armed only with his first name, she looked him up on the internet, with no success. How many English actors were there with the name Edward? Apparently, a lot.

So, no. There was nothing to wonder about. Ships have sailed since then, and water had run under the bridge. A lot of water. So why was she here on the top of his favourite spot in London?

Leïla shoved her feet into her Bensimons and dusted off bits of grass of her skirt as she rose from her spot. As she descended the gentle slope looking for a patch of shadow, her phone vibrated through the fabric of her tote bag. She quickly pulled it out and saw it was Lina, her older sister.

"How is London? How is the weather? Did you meet any cute brits? Where are you? Tell me everything!"

"Okay, Lina. Slow down. Terrific. Hot. Not yet. Parliament Hill. Any other questions?"

"Come on, I'm so excited for you. My little sister is following her dream and she's in bloody London. I told you I'll live the single life vicariously through you."

Leïla rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "There's nothing to report yet. You know I was just on that plane a mere hours ago. Give a sister some time to settle down."

"Alright, alright. Hold on a second."

Leïla's heart squeezed as she heard a small voice through the phone asking for an ice-cream. The voice of her little chickpea. She missed her three-year-old niece so much already. It was hard to say goodbye to her, harder than when she said goodbye to her sister and dad.

"Hum, Lina? I'm melting here under the sun. Talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay, bye!"

Leïla put her phone in her back pocket and branched off the slope to walk through the woods. Runners and dogs and their owners frequently crossed paths. She stumbled upon a canopy of trees that shaded the lush walk to the famous ponds where swimmers braved the weather all year round for a dip in the waters.

She paused to take it all in. The swimmers, the laugh of children, the smell of warm earth and the bark of dogs. Beams of sunlight warmed her face and a cool breeze ruffled the hem of her full skirt. She took a deep, heartful breath, and at that moment, as a soft happiness coursed through her body, she knew that she was ready for whatever was ahead.