The taxi ride was quiet at first.
May sat stiffly in the back seat, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes darting between the window and the road ahead. London rushed past in a blur of buildings, people, and sounds she had never grown up with. Everything felt too big, too fast, too alive.
William noticed her tension.
"You can relax," he said gently. "You look like you are waiting for something bad to happen."
She let out a small breath. "I think I am just not used to… this."
"This?" he asked.
"Being somewhere that does not feel like it is closing in on me."
He nodded slowly, as if that made perfect sense.
The taxi slowed, then turned onto a wide road lined with polished stone and towering glass. The building that came into view made May sit up straighter.
Her breath caught.
The hotel rose before them like something unreal, tall and grand, sunlight glinting off its windows. People moved in and out through revolving doors, dressed neatly, confidently, like they belonged to this world.
The taxi came to a stop.
"We are here," the driver said.
May blinked. "Here?"
William paid and stepped out first, then opened her door. She hesitated before following him, standing on the pavement as she stared up at the building.
"Where are we?" she asked quietly.
William glanced at her, then back at the hotel, almost casually. "My father's hotel."
Her mind went blank.
'His father's… hotel?'
She looked at him again, searching his face to see if he was joking. He was not.
"This is your father's hotel?" she asked.
He smiled slightly. "Yes."
Her chest tightened. She did not know what to say. Her entire life, wealth had been something she only heard about in passing. Something other people had.
And now she was standing in front of it.
They walked inside, and May's senses were immediately overwhelmed. The lobby was vast, filled with warm light, marble floors gleaming beneath her feet. Chandeliers hung high above, sparkling softly. Everything smelled clean and expensive and unreal.
She felt small.
William approached the reception desk with ease, exchanging a few quiet words with the receptionist. May stood a little to the side, clutching her bag, afraid to touch anything.
She watched as the receptionist handed William two sleek key cards.
He turned and walked back to her, holding one out.
"This is yours," he said.
She stared at it. "Mine?"
"Room 999."
Her fingers brushed his as she took it. The numbers seemed unreal.
"There are… that many rooms?" she asked.
He laughed softly. "There are more."
She shook her head slightly, overwhelmed. "I do not even know how to get there."
"Elevator," he said, pointing. "And my room is next to yours. Room 998."
"Oh."
The number lodged itself in her mind. Not alone. Not completely.
They walked toward the elevators together, the soft hum filling the silence. When the doors closed, May glanced at her reflection in the mirrored wall. She looked out of place, like someone who had wandered into the wrong story.
As the elevator rose, she cleared her throat.
"William?"
"Yes?"
"How can I repay you?"
He turned to her, surprised.
"You do not have to," he said immediately.
"I want to," she replied. "You did not have to help me. You could have just… left me on that bus."
He studied her for a moment, then smiled.
"Then let me take you out to dinner," he said.
Her eyes widened. "Dinner?"
"Yes. That is repayment enough."
She hesitated. "I would love to, but…"
"But?"
"I do not have anything fancy," she admitted, looking down at her clothes. "Just this. And what is in my bag."
He waved it off easily. "That is not a problem."
"Really?"
"I will handle it," he said with confidence.
The elevator dinged softly and the doors opened.
They stepped out onto a quiet hallway, plush carpet muffling their footsteps. William gestured down the hall.
"Your room."
She stopped in front of the door marked 999. The numbers gleamed softly. For a strange moment, she felt like they were watching her.
She slid the key card through the reader. The door opened.
Her breath left her in a rush.
The room was enormous. Larger than any space she had ever been allowed to occupy. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a bed that looked like it belonged in a dream, furniture polished and perfect.
She stepped inside slowly, afraid the illusion might break.
'This is not real,' she thought.
William watched her reaction with quiet amusement. "You can rest," he said. "We will meet later."
"Thank you," she whispered.
He smiled once more, then turned and left her alone.
The door closed softly behind him.
May stood there for a long moment, unmoving. Then she let out a shaky laugh.
She dropped her bag and walked deeper into the room, touching the curtains, the table, the bed. Everything was real.
Her mind drifted briefly to the cramped space under the stairs she had slept in back home. The contrast made her chest ache.
She went into the bathroom and stared at the tub, already filled with promise. She turned the water on and sank into the bath, bubbles rising around her skin.
As the warmth surrounded her, she closed her eyes.
'I am safe. Just for now,' she told herself.
When she finally stepped out, she wrapped herself in the soft bathrobe waiting for her. Her fingers brushed the fabric unconsciously, marveling at how gentle it felt against her skin.
She sat on the bed, exhaustion crashing down on her all at once.
The room smelled clean. Quiet. Safe.
Her eyes drifted shut.
And for the first time in a long while, May slept without fear.