On getting home that night, Aurelia took of her heels, left them by the door and made a beeline for the kitchen. She didn't eat before going for the anniversary and she couldn't eat at the anniversary; because of abundance of nerves she felt during the dinner since everything had to be perfect.
She opened the fridge, took out one of the lunchboxes she got from Nadia—her best friend since high school days, some days ago and then placed it the microwave to heat. As the food warmed up, she sat on the kitchen stool pondering, the weight of the day was suddenly bearing down on her. Well, nobody ever told her leading a company was going to be so stressful.
After eating, she headed over to the bathroom to wash away the day's stress. She had studied Business Archaeology in college, because she had a strong passion for archaeology, a deep love for ancient and mystical object and she was going to take over the family company when she was ready for it. Aunt Isolde would always tell her to make sure her parents death is not wasted—which was crude talk in her opinion but she couldn't say that to her, if anything she was grateful to the woman for raising her since she lost her parents.
That night when Aurelia slept, for the first time in her life, she dreamt of a place unknown and a life unreachable.
---
The evening sun warmed the white stone pathways while wisteria vines decorated the walls with its flowers. The air here felt cool but at the same time it carried the faint scent of rain and something sweet she couldn't name.
The garden was impossibly quiet.
The pale stone pathways curved through rows of flowering trees, their branches heavy with soft white blossoms that drifted soundlessly to the ground. At the center stood a long pool mirroring the sky perfectly and undisturbed. Marble columns framed a small pavilion beyond it, veiled in creeping ivy and filtered sunlight.
The light there was different—it was warmer and the air was slower— as if time itself had agreed to pause. Aurelia held her breath taking in the beauty of this unknown place she found herself in. The petals brushed against her sleeves as she walked, and somewhere behind her she heard another set of footsteps.
Her mind was starting to think various possibilities of where she could be when large arms wrapped around her waist. "Found you... Relia," he whispered directly into her ear while the words—deep and resonant settled in the quiet space between them, too close... impossibly close.
His voice was low—not loud or urgent—but steady, the kind that didn't need volume to command attention. Her heart sped up, mind racing but she did not turn.
She didn't know who it was—no... she knew who it was.
He lowered his head to rest on her shoulder—a familiar lover's touch, then let out a deep, throaty laughter. And that sound went directly to her spine rather than her ears. Something in her chest tightened. She had never heard his voice before, but she felt certainty—like she'd known him before.
The sound lingered even as the garden began to dissolve into a low and steady unraveling light then—
She wakes up.
---
When her eyes open, she doesn't move, she only stares at the ceiling, processing. She sits up, her eyes move around searching the room, half expecting someone to be standing behind her. She sighs, running a hand through her hair.
The room was quiet—too quiet.
"It's just a dream... don't be dramatic," she murmured trying to stay grounded and logical. But her heart was not steady. She rose up from thee bed without lingering because routine was grounding—it was reliable.
She showered, dressed up in a tailored charcoal suit with minimal jewelry and swept back her hair with deliberate calm and precision.
Routine.
By the time she had stepped into her heels, the dream had long been folded away — categorized as irrelevant. Still, as she fastened her watch, she hesitated and cast a short look around the room. For just a little second there she felt a strange sensation of being watched. Not in the room.
Just... somewhere.
---
The car moved smoothly through downtown Westbridge, past steel brigdes and towering skyscrapers. People rushed about to get to work early and digital billboard flickered against glass facades. The city was efficient, precise and unemotional—exactly the way she preferred it.
Thorne Tower rose in sharp, elegant lines—less imposing than Valemore's stark dominance, but no less deliberate. The logo gleamed in brushed silver above the entrance. But for her, it wasn't as imposing; it was more familiar to her than anything else and she had a lot of memories with her parents at the company before their passing.
As soon as she stepped out of the car and into the building; conversations shifted, phones were lowered and assistants straightened. She acknowledged them with a brief nod and stopped in front of the elevator.
For a fleeting second, she expected something to feel different.
But it didn't.
The elevator doors closed, sealing her inside the reflective cubicle. She let out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding and met her own gaze in the mirrored walls.
Calm. Controlled. Perfectly intact.
And yet — a strange and absurd thought surfaced.
Have we met before? Confusion marred her otherwise perfectly controlled face.
The heir to the Thorne Industries, wasn't in the position to think with emotions. Regrettably, a lot of her decisions were going to cost people's livelihood but she wasn't scared. The ten years with her parents taught her a lot of things and fear wasn't one of them.
The doors opened onto the top floor of the Thorne Group and Aurelia stepped in, already walking to her office. Her assistant was already waiting at the door of her office with a tablet in hand and her schedule for today.
"Good morning, Ms. Thorne."
She looked over at him—Victor, he had been helpful since the first day she started working here. "Morning," she nodded once and entered her office, closing the door behind her and hanging her suit on the coat rack before settling down.
How tiring, she thought opening the black folder placed at the center of her desk. She finally let out a little smile. The embossed folder in question was the Halden Expansion Initiative. It was supposed to go on for three years—that was what they called it.
An Executive Master's Program in International Development Finance combined with the oversight of Thorne's Coastal Holdings in Halden. Officially, it was about experience, about positioning Thorne Group within emerging markets and strategic expansion.
But unofficially, it was distance.
She rested her fingers against the folder and heaved a sigh, she wanted this—this personal break, away from prying eyes. Three years wasn't long, not in business and not in legacy. And yet—for weird reasons, the thought of leaving Westbridge unsettled her this morning.