Threads of Destiny

12

The station was busy with travelers, the air sharp with winter, when Lea spotted her brother waiting by the car. He waved broadly, grin already tugging at his face.

“Well, well,” he said as the girls approached with their bags, “look who finally remembered she has a family.”

Lea rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

But her brother was already turning his charm toward Clemence. “And you must be the famous roommate. I’m glad someone’s brave enough to keep my sister in line.”

Clemence laughed, playing along easily. “She’s not too terrible. Most of the time.”

Lea groaned, but couldn’t hide her smile as he took one of Clemence’s bags with exaggerated gallantry.

When they reached the car, Lea frowned. “Why are we driving? We could’ve walked. It’s not far.”

Her brother smirked as he loaded their luggage into the trunk. “I didn’t know how much the two of you would haul back. Better safe than sorry.”

Lea gave his arm a quick slap, half playful, half exasperated. “You’re impossible.”

“All part of my charm,” he shot back, winking at Clemence before climbing behind the wheel.

As the car pulled away from the station, the teasing didn’t stop. It filled the ride with warmth, laughter, and the unmistakable sense of being home.

---

Lea’s parents were waiting at the door when the car pulled up, bundled in coats against the cold. Her mother reached her first, wrapping Lea in a hug that smelled of flour and lavender.

“And you must be Clemence,” she said warmly, turning to her daughter’s friend without hesitation. “Welcome to our home.”

Clemence offered a polite smile, but it quickly softened when Lea’s father stepped forward to take her bag from her hands. “Any friend of Lea’s is family here,” he said.

Inside, the little house glowed with the familiar warmth of wood and soft light. The dining table was already set with snacks, tea steaming in mismatched cups. Clemence glanced around, the coziness so different from her own family’s sharper, more formal home.

“You’ll be in Lea’s room, of course,” her mother explained as they carried the bags upstairs. “We’ve set up an extra blanket. It can get chilly at night.”

When they stepped into the room, Clemence laughed softly. “It’s perfect.” Posters still covered one wall, a bookshelf stood crowded with well-worn novels, and two beds — one already hers for the stay — made the space feel unexpectedly complete.

Later, after tea and chatter around the table, Clemence stretched out on her side of the room, perfectly at ease. “I see why you miss home,” she said, smiling at Lea. “It’s lovely here.”

Lea grinned, cheeks a little pink. “Told you so.”

And with that, Clemence slipped into the rhythm of the Vance household as though she had always belonged.

---

Lea noticed it almost immediately — her brother was busier than usual. He joined them for meals, but the rest of the time he was hunched over books, filling notebooks with calculations and scribbles.

One evening, when Clemence asked outright, he leaned back with a sigh. “I’m preparing for my Master’s,” he explained. “I want to study abroad. In Arcanterra.”

“Arcanterra?” Clemence’s eyes lit up. The great western country — vast, ambitious, restless. Its universities were some of the most renowned in the world.

“Yes,” he said, his grin a mix of nerves and pride. “It’s not easy. The exams, the applications, the funding. But if I can make it…” He trailed off, but the dream filled the silence.

Clemence leaned forward, her voice quickening with excitement. “That’s exactly what I want to do. To go abroad. To see more, learn more. I’ve been thinking about it for years. Imagine the opportunities — the people you’d meet, the knowledge, the chance to live differently.”

Lea’s brother matched her enthusiasm, the two of them lost in a spirited discussion that ran late into the evening. They debated universities, courses, futures — their energy filling the small living room. Lea, sitting quietly on the couch, watched with a mixture of pride and faint amusement at how easily Clemence had found her rhythm with her brother.

When Clemence wasn’t with him, though, Lea claimed her back. She took her friend through the streets of her hometown, pointing out childhood haunts — the square where she’d learned to ride her bike, the bakery that always sold out by noon, the little bookstore she’d never stopped loving. Clemence listened with interest, smiling as she tucked the pieces of Lea’s past into her memory.

By the end of the week, Clemence seemed woven into every part of Lea’s home life — part guest, part sister, part co-dreamer of bigger worlds.

---

The two weeks seemed to vanish in a blur of laughter, long talks, and shared meals. Julien was always dividing his time between his own studies and the family, but he never missed the small moments — teasing Lea, trading ambitions with Clemence, or quietly joining their walks through town.

On their last evening, he surprised them both. “Tonight, you’re coming with me,” he declared, leading them to his new favorite restaurant. It was a modest bistro tucked on a quiet street, its windows glowing against the cold night.

Inside, the three filled a corner table, ordering plates to share until the table overflowed. Julien was animated, talking about professors and classmates, teasing Lea whenever she reached for another slice of bread, and listening intently as Clemence spoke about her dreams of studying abroad. The laughter carried late into the night, the meal becoming less about food and more about memory.

The next morning came far too quickly. Their parents drove them to the station, the car heavy with luggage and unspoken goodbyes. At the platform, the truth of it all settled in: Julien was returning to his college, Lea and Clemence to theirs.

“All three of you, on the same train,” their mother said, smiling faintly. “That makes it easier for me to let you go.”

Julien hoisted his bag onto his shoulder with a grin. “Don’t worry, Mama. We’ll take care of each other.”

Lea rolled her eyes, Clemence laughed, and the three siblings — for that was what Clemence felt like now — boarded together.

As the train pulled out, their parents waved from the platform, growing smaller and smaller until the station was just a blur behind them. Ahead lay the capital, and with it, the return to everything they had left waiting.