The familiar creak of the front gate pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up, and there she was — Maya. My childhood partner-in-crime, my late-night secret keeper. She hadn't changed, not really. The same mischievous spark danced in her eyes, though her hand was now adorned with a glittering engagement ring as she leaned against her fiancé's arm.
"Elena!" she squealed, dropping her bag to throw her arms around me. The warmth of her hug was like stepping into summer after a long winter.
I laughed, squeezing her tight. "You're really doing this? Getting married here of all places?"
Maya grinned. "Of course. Nothing feels more right than coming back home to say 'I do.' Besides, you know I couldn't resist dragging him back here to see where it all started."
Her fiancé chuckled, patient and polite, but Maya was already pulling me down memory lane, words spilling like a flood.
We sat in my living room, reminiscing about scraped knees and stolen fruit from the neighbor's orchard, about nights spent daring each other to sneak out under the stars. But then her tone softened, her gaze turning thoughtful.
"Do you remember the Blackwood mansion?" she asked.
My heart skipped. "Of course. Who wouldn't?"
Maya smirked knowingly. "Adrian Blackwood. The boy who never played with us, never joined in. Always too… important."
I forced a small laugh, but a strange shiver ran down my spine. "Yeah. He always stayed up there, watching from those giant windows."
Maya leaned closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a scandal. "Not just watching. Watching you, Elena. I noticed it, even back then. The way his eyes followed you whenever we played outside. He never looked at me like that. Or anyone else. Always you."
Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. My cheeks warmed, and memories stirred — fleeting glimpses of dark eyes in the distance, a boy standing alone at the balcony while we laughed in the yard.
Before I could reply, Maya's fiancé returned from the kitchen with drinks. The moment broke, but the air inside me didn't settle.
Later that evening, as the three of us walked toward the small garden where neighbors had gathered to welcome them back, my gaze flickered toward the mansion on the hill.
And there he was.
Adrian.
Standing in the shadows at the edge of the garden, apart from the laughter and chatter. Older now, sharper, every inch the man he'd grown into. His eyes found mine across the distance, locking me in place.
Maya followed my gaze, her lips curving in a secret smile. "See?" she whispered. "Always you."
I swallowed hard, heat pooling in my chest as Adrian's stare burned into me. He didn't smile. He didn't move closer. He didn't have to.
Because in that moment, I felt it — his presence, his claim.
And Daniel, somewhere behind me, was suddenly the furthest thing from my mind.