The city outside her window glittered like spilled stars across glass towers and crowded boulevards. Emily rested her cheek to the cool pane of the car, watching lights smear into ribbons as they sped through the night. Six years. She hadn't set foot in this house for six years.
She wasn't a stranger to her family,never that. There had been video calls with her mother, steady, reassuring check-ins from her stepfather, and even quick lunches with Edward whenever he and the others passed through London. They had seen her. They had held on. But calls end, visits blur, and none of it was the same as coming home.
The gates swung open soundlessly. The estate rose out of the dark like a private constellation, every window aflame, terraces laced in silk and lanterns for the wedding. Music spilled faintly from somewhere inside; laughter winked like light on crystal.
Mr. Harris waited at the top of the stairs, composed as always, the gray creeping quietly at his temples. "Miss Emily," he said, and for a second the years peeled away.
She went to him with a quick, affectionate side hug, careful of his formal posture. Mr.Harris chuckled under his breath, a sound she hadn't realized she'd missed. "Welcome home," he murmured.
Home.The word pressed against her ribs.
Her mother swept across the foyer a heartbeat later, all warm perfume and familiar arms. "Emily!" She hugged her tight enough to fold the distance between years, then framed her face with both hands. "You look wonderful. Thinner. London needs feeding lessons."
Emily laughed, breath catching. "I've missed you."
Her stepfather,Richard followed, tall, composed, and unexpectedly soft-eyed. He didn't hesitate, just pulled her into a full, steady hug, the kind that made the world stop rushing. "Kiddo.." he said, voice low and fond. "We missed you more than you know".
There it was again ,the quiet certainty he had given her from the beginning. She had never shared his blood; she had never needed to. He made belonging feel simple.
They fussed over her bags, asked about the flight, about London's rain, about whether she'd been eating properly. Emily nodded, answered, smiled. The warmth rose around her like candlelight and then her gaze slid past it, searching for a face she knew wasn't here.
"Edward?" she asked.
Her mother's smile turned conspiratorial. "Not in tonight. Out with Bianca and the boys… a small pre-wedding thing."
Something tightened deep inside Emily, a pull she couldn't name.
Richard laughed softly, shaking his head. "The usual?" he added, amused. His eyes twinkled as he listed them off. "Andrew, Nate Halloway, Daniel Carter, Lucas Meyer. And of course, the rest of Bianca's friends are there too..but you know those boys. Where they go, the night follows."
Andrew.
The name moved through her like a shadow and a spark. Andrew Williams , Edward's best friend, the golden center of every room. Popular, rich, effortlessly charming. Untouchable. Once upon a time, she'd mapped her heart around his laugh and never told a soul. He had never noticed.
"You could join them," her mother offered, gentle. "They'd be thrilled to see you. Andrew always .."
"I'm jet-lagged," Emily cut in with a quick smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Tomorrow. I'll have more words tomorrow."
Her mother studied her, understanding more than she said, and only nodded. "Rest then. Your room's exactly as you left it."
Exactly. The word made her chest ache.
Upstairs, the door opened to a preserved life: pale curtains breathing in the night breeze, books stacked in the same neat chaos, a pressed flower under glass, the faintest trace of lavender. Time had dusted the corners, not the memories.
She set her bag down and crossed to the desk. The bottom drawer slid open with a familiar scrape, revealing a small wooden box scarred by the habits of an old secret. Her fingers found the code without thinking—click.
Inside, the diary waited, spine softened, edges feathered by turning. The first touch was a tremor. The second, surrender.
She parted the book at the place her soul already knew.
He laughed at something Edward said. Everyone looked at him. I looked too. I wish..just once..he'd look back.
Emily pressed her palm there, as if she could steady the younger girl who had written it. Calls and visits had carried her through the years, but they hadn't carried this away. The feeling had settled like dust, quiet and everywhere.
Across the city, the so-called elite were raising glasses..Edward grinning, Bianca glowing, Nate and Daniel and Lucas competing to be the loudest, and Andrew at the center, bright as ever. Some people, it seemed, were made of light.
Emily wasn't the same girl who hid behind her hair and the edges of rooms. She had built a life an ocean away. She had learned her own weight. But the diary was still here, and so was the name written between its lines.
She closed the cover, slid the box back, and drew the curtains just enough to watch the distant sky.
Tomorrow, she would see him again..Andrew Williams, unchanged and impossible..and the secret that once lived on paper would have to face the light.