SHADOWS OF THE PAST

The sound of a zipper broke the quiet in Anastasia’s room. Morning sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, painting golden lines across the floor where open suitcases waited half-filled with clothes and dreams too big for her small hometown. Her stepmother, Grace, leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, trying to mask the worry in her eyes. She had raised Anastasia since she was twelve not by blood, but by choice and goodbyes had never been easy. “You sure you packed everything, Ana?” Grace asked softly. Anastasia tucked a strand of brunette hair behind her ear and smiled faintly. “I double-checked twice, Mom. I think London’s ready for me.” Grace let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “London might be ready, but I’m not.” They laughed together, but beneath the warmth lingered the weight of what they didn’t say. This wasn’t just a trip, it was a letting go. Anastasia’s eyes swept over the room one last time: the faded posters, the cluttered desk, and the sticky note on her mirror that read Dream big or don’t dream at all. That note had carried her through countless nights of studying, and now it was happening. She had earned a scholarship to Queen Mary University of London, one of the city’s most prestigious schools. The car ride to the airport felt both too short and too long. Her father sat beside Grace in the front seat, hands buried in his pockets, jaw tight with worry. Her step-sister and step-brother were in the back, fidgeting quietly, trying to smile but failing. At the entrance of the terminal, they piled out. Anastasia hugged her father tightly. “Promise you’ll call me as soon as I land,” he said, voice steady but betraying a tremor of emotion. “I will,” Anastasia whispered, holding back tears. “I’ll make you proud.” Grace brushed a strand of hair from Anastasia’s face. “You already have, Ana. Always have.” Her step-sister tugged at her sleeve. “Don’t forget me while you’re in London!” she said, voice cracking. “And me!” her step-brother added with a small grin, though his eyes betrayed worry. Anastasia smiled, squeezing them all one last time. “Never,” she promised. The final boarding call echoed overhead. Anastasia picked up her carry-on and took a deep breath. Every step toward the gate felt like stepping into a new version of herself. braver, freer, ready. On the plane, Anastasia followed the aisle to her seat, clutching her boarding pass. Seat 14B. As she reached for her seat, her bag brushed against someone behind her. She turned quickly to apologize and froze. A man dressed entirely in black ,long coat, gloves, and a hat shadowing his face stood just a few steps away. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, intense and unreadable, before he walked past and disappeared down the aisle. Shaking off the flutter in her chest, she slid into her seat between two men who couldn’t have looked more out of place. Both wore black suits. The man on her left had dark shades on, his posture rigid, clearly a bodyguard. The man by the window wore no shades but radiated quiet authority, his presence commanding attention without a word. “First time flying?” he asked softly, his deep voice smooth, just above the hum of the engines. “Uh, yes. To London,” she stammered. He nodded once, his eyes briefly meeting hers again. “London,” he repeated quietly, as if the word carried more than just a place. Then he turned toward the window, leaving her mind spinning. The rest of the flight passed in a blur. Every hum of the engines, every clink from the overhead bins, every murmured word from the cabin crew seemed distant. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man in black, nor the bodyguard. Their presence pulled at something inside her curiosity, unease, something she couldn’t yet name. By the time the plane began its descent, London sprawled below her vast, glowing, alive. Outside the airport, Anastasia collected her luggage and stepped into the cool air. The city was a living pulse honking cars, rolling suitcases, voices in countless accents, and the faint scent of baked bread drifting from a nearby café. Her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number lit the screen: Unknown: London isn’t always what it seems. Be careful who you trust. A chill ran through her. Probably spam… right? Tucking the phone away, she hailed a cab. “Queen Mary University of London, student dorms in Mile End, please,” she told the driver. He nodded. “About twenty minutes, depending on traffic.” As the taxi pulled away, the city came alive in waves. Neon signs flickered above shop windows; the distant toll of Big Ben echoed faintly in the evening air. Street performers played on the corner, their music blending with the hum of engines and the rhythmic clatter of footsteps on cobblestones. The scent of roasted chestnuts from a street vendor mingled with the earthy smell of wet pavement after a recent drizzle. Anastasia pressed her forehead to the window, watching the blur of color and movement. Every honk, every shout, every flashing light seemed to pulse with life. Her heart raced — part fear, part excitement, part wonder. She had dreamed of this city for so long, and now it was real. And somewhere in the labyrinth of streets, the man in black from the plane moved too. His presence lingered like a shadow in her mind, a quiet reminder that her journey had already begun in ways she couldn’t yet understand. The taxi pulled up outside the student dorms at Queen Mary University of London. Anastasia paid the driver, thanking him with a nervous smile, then hoisted her carry-on and backpack, taking in the building in front of her. The brick façade gleamed in the late afternoon light, and the large glass doors reflected the bustling campus beyond. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, but her chest still fluttered like a hummingbird trapped inside. Stepping onto the pavement, she navigated through clusters of students laughing, chatting, and wheeling suitcases. Bright banners flapped in the breeze, announcing welcome week and club sign-ups, while the sound of a distant guitar and faint chatter filled the courtyard. Every face she passed seemed to be moving with purpose, confident in a way she wasn’t sure she felt. “Excuse me! Sorry!” she called, her voice trembling slightly as she accidentally brushed past a young man carrying a stack of papers. “No problem,” he replied with a friendly grin. She smiled nervously and moved on, only to brush shoulders with a girl balancing a coffee cup and laptop bag. “Oh gosh, sorry!” Anastasia exclaimed, cheeks flushing. “It’s okay, it’s okay!” the girl laughed, adjusting her bag. “First day nerves?” Anastasia nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah… first day, new city.” “Ah, you’ll get used to it. London’s a lot at first, but it grows on you,” the girl said with an encouraging smile before hurrying on. Anastasia adjusted her backpack and tried to calm her racing thoughts. Deep breaths. You’re fine. You’re here because you earned it. You can do this. She finally reached the glass doors of the reception. Her palms were clammy as she pushed them open, stepping into the cool, slightly air-conditioned lobby. The space buzzed with activity: a line of students at the reception desk, staff members handing out welcome packets, and parents saying tearful goodbyes. Posters decorated the walls — maps of the campus, welcome week schedules, and photos of student events. Anastasia approached the desk, trying to look calm as she adjusted her suitcase. “Hi! I’m Anastasia… Ana… Anastasia Rutherford. I’m checking in,” she said, voice wavering. The receptionist smiled warmly. “Welcome, Anastasia! We’ve been expecting you. Let me check your registration.” She typed quickly, glancing between the computer and Anastasia. “Ah, here you are. You’ll be in Mile End Hall, Room 412. Here’s your keycard and your welcome packet. Orientation starts at 5 PM, so you have some time to settle in.” Anastasia thanked her, clutching the packet like it was a lifeline. Her mind buzzed with excitement and nerves. She glanced around the lobby, noticing the variety of students — some chatting confidently with friends, others alone and hesitant, like herself. As she turned to leave, her suitcase caught the edge of a floor sign, sending it wobbling. “Oh! Sorry!” she cried, steadying it just in time. “Don’t worry, it happens,” said a voice nearby. A tall student with curly hair offered her a hand to steady the sign. Their eyes met briefly, and Anastasia’s heart fluttered at the simple kindness. She smiled, murmuring, “Thank you,” before hurrying toward the elevators. Her steps echoed softly on the polished floor. Inside the elevator, she pressed the button for the fourth floor. The metallic doors closed with a soft whoosh, and she let out a shaky breath. You’re here. You’re really here. London. The thought both thrilled and terrified her. When the elevator opened, the hallway was long and quiet, lined with doors to student rooms. She wheeled her suitcase carefully, feeling every nervous step. Her neighbors were moving in too — one carried a stack of books, another dragged a bright pink suitcase — all chatting in small, confident groups that made Anastasia feel slightly out of place. Finally, she found Room 412. She swiped her keycard, and the lock clicked open. The room smelled faintly of cleaning products and something faintly floral — probably left by the previous occupant. It was small but cozy: a neatly made bed, a desk stacked with welcome leaflets, and a window overlooking the campus courtyard. She set down her bags, exhaling slowly. This is it. Your new life starts here. Before she could unpack, she noticed movement in the hallway — someone pausing to glance into rooms as they walked by. Her pulse quickened as she thought back to the man in black on the plane. No… couldn’t be… could it? Shaking her head, she tried to push the thought away. Focus. Orientation. New friends. Classes. London. She pulled her welcome packet closer and skimmed the schedule, heart still racing but excitement creeping in. Soon, she would meet other students, explore the campus, and maybe — just maybe — find that her new life would be even bigger than she had dreamed.