Primrose turned her eyes to the clock and blinked in surprise. It was already past midnight.
"What? That fast?" she pouted slightly. "We didn't even get to talk for that long."
Lazarus patted his daughter's cheek gently. "It can't be helped, Rosie. It's too risky to travel back after sunrise," he said. Then he added, "I'll write you more letters from now on. Please, make sure you reply to them."
Primrose averted her gaze, feeling a deep pang of guilt. Back then, she had never replied to her father's letters. "I will," she promised softly.
Their meeting felt far too short, maybe not even two hours, and they hadn't really talked about everything she had wanted to say.
But still, those two hours were enough.
Enough to calm the ache in her heart, enough to ease the heavy longing she had carried for so long.
All the worry she had kept buried inside her finally melted away.
In this life, she could see her father again and she would treasure every moment of it.
