All that was left : what remains after darkness?

CHAPTER 11

Zara's pov

Light.

Soft and gold, spilling through the curtains like it had been waiting all night just to find me. For a second, I didn't remember where I was. The sheets were too smooth. The air smelled faintly of lavender and polish instead of rain and pine trees. And the silence... it was heavy, like a room that hadn't been lived in for a while.

Then it all came rushing back, the flight, the house, my grandparents, the tears. Jonas.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. The ache was still there, low in my chest, dull but constant, the kind of hurt that doesn't throb anymore... it just exists. My phone was on the nightstand, black screen reflecting my face. No messages. I hadn't expected one, but still...

A soft knock sounded at the door before I could reach for it.

"Come in," I said, voice barely above a whisper.

The door creaked open, and the scent of coffee drifted in first, strong, rich, familiar. Maria stepped inside, balancing a tray with practiced grace. "Good morning, mi cielo," she said with a smile that reached her eyes. "I thought you might like breakfast here before the day begins."

I pushed myself up, the covers pooling at my waist. "You didn't have to—"

"Nonsense," she interrupted gently, setting the tray on the little table near the window. "You are family. You are home."

The words hit deeper than I expected. Home. I wanted to believe that.

Maria opened the curtains wider. Outside, London gleamed under a pale sky, rooftops damp from last night's rain, a soft mist curling above the garden. It looked calm, almost storybook-like, but it still didn't feel like mine.

"Your grandparents will want to see you after breakfast," Maria said, straightening the tray. "They're excited to show you around the neighborhood later. And Maya is already downstairs, talking about a million things, as usual."

That made me smile, small but real. "She's... something."

Maria laughed softly. "She's sunshine. Loud sunshine, but still sunshine."

When she left, I sat by the window, nibbling at toast, letting the world outside sink in. The city was alive now, footsteps on the pavement, cars rolling past, the distant bark of a dog. For a second, I imagined walking those streets, blending into the rhythm of it all.

But then my eyes drifted to my phone again. Still dark. Still quiet.

I sighed, tucking it away in the drawer.

If I was going to survive here, I couldn't keep living between two worlds. London deserved at least a piece of me, even if my heart was still somewhere else.

So I stood, stretched, and faced the window again.

"Okay," I whispered to myself. "New day. New city. Just breathe."

And for the first time since I landed, I tried.

~•~

London feels heavier than I expected.

Not in a bad way... just different.

Colder air, quieter streets, older buildings. Everything looks like it has stories I haven't learned yet. I step out of the car and the breeze brushes my face, cool, unfamiliar, almost gentle.

Maya hooks her arm through mine immediately, like she can sense the knot sitting in my chest.

"Welcome to London," she says softly this time. No theatrics. Just warmth.

Rita stands beside the car, straight-backed and watchful. Even with her sunglasses on, I can tell she's studying everything. She nods at me. "We're set to go when you are."

I nod back. My voice doesn't feel ready yet.

Highgate is calm in the early morning, the kind of quiet that feels expensive. Trees line the streets, neat and proud, and every house looks like it has been standing longer than the people who live in it. There's something comforting about that... stability.

Our first stop is a café on the corner: The Golden Mug. Yellow lights spill through the windows, warm enough to pull me inside without thinking.

The moment I walk in, the smell hits me... coffee, but soft. Sweet. Like vanilla and something warm and safe. My shoulders loosen.

Rita heads straight for a window table, the one facing the entrance. Always alert. Always the anchor.

Maya and I walk to the counter together.

"What would you like?" the barista asks.

I almost say I don't know.

London feels too big right now to make decisions. But then I remember the one thing that always calms me.

"Something creamy," I say quietly. "And sweet. Not too strong."

The barista smiles. "I can do that."

Maya orders her caramel latte, she doesn't even look at the menu. She's so at home everywhere, it amazes me.

We join Rita at the table. I cradle the cup when it arrives, letting the warmth settle into my palms. When I take the first sip, I breathe for what feels like the first time today. It's soft. Familiar. Safe.

Maya watches me with that small, knowing smile.

"Next week," she begins, "we start at Raisiney Boarding School."

I look down at my cup. "Tell me about it."

"It's in Chelsea," she says, her voice gentle. "Private. Old. Very... polished. Most of the kids there come from families who travel more than they stay home."

I nod. I'd expected as much.

New country. New rules. New faces.

"Hey." Maya nudges my foot under the table. "You'll be fine. You have me. And Rita. We're not going anywhere."

I glance at Rita. She's scanning the café again, patient, steady. The kind of presence that makes your breath slow down.

Outside the window, London moves quietly... grey skies, neat streets, people walking fast with purpose.

It doesn't feel like home.

But... maybe that isn't a bad thing.