Encrypted vows

The first thing Lena Walter noticed when she stepped out of the airport was the heat. Not the gentle kind that welcomed you home. Los Angeles hit differently. The city feels like it's been waiting for her, but not in a sweet way. It's more like it's saying, "Hey, remember me? Things aren't the same as they were." She feels a rush of old memories, but also a little worried about what's different now. It's a mix of "wow, I'm back" and "uh oh, what's changed?” She paused just outside the sliding doors, suitcase in one hand, laptop bag hanging from her shoulder, and took a slow breath. “Okay,” she murmured to herself. “Back to reality.” It didn’t sound convincing. Three years in Germany—buried in code, systems, sleepless nights, and a world that made more sense than people ever did. She is twenty-two. Strong in the way quiet people are — the kind of strength that doesn’t announce itself. Introverted but bold when it mattered. Courageous enough to walk into rooms that were never meant for her and rewrite the rules before anyone noticed. To her professors, she was Lena Walter. At the top of her class, she barely spoke in lectures. Always left the moment they ended. To the tech world, she was someone else entirely: “Nova”. The world's most notorious underground hacker, but nobody knows what Nova looks like. She kept her identity hidden to protect herself. The name whispered on dark forums and in billion-dollar boardrooms. The mind behind the AI that predicted market crashes before they happened. The hacker no one could trace. The one who dismantled a ransomware network in under forty minutes without leaving a single footprint. The hacker governments tried to trace and failed. But right now, she's Lena Walter, who just wants to meet her parents and wrap her arms around them in a tight hug; it's been three years. She scanned the crowd. Her mom would’ve been easy to spot—waving, probably already calling her name, smiling like Lena had been gone for decades instead of three years. She’d pull her into one of those tight hugs that made it hard to breathe. “You’ve lost weight,” she would say. “Mom, I haven’t—” “I can see bones.” “Those are called shoulders.” Lena huffed a small laugh under her breath. “Yeah… that sounds about right.” She shifted her weight, rising slightly on her toes, trying to see over the moving crowd. But she wasn’t there. Lena frowned as looked around, "that's weird.” Her mother hated being late. If anything, she would’ve been here thirty minutes early, pacing, checking the time, smiling at strangers just because she was too happy to stand still. She checked her phone; there were no messages or missed calls. A small unease settled in her chest. “Traffic,” she muttered. “This is LA. That’s basically guaranteed.” She tapped her mom’s contact and lifted the phone to her ear. It rang and rang, then voicemail. Alright… again.” She tried once more but still got the same result. This time, something tightened in her chest. She stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary before locking it. “She’s probably just driving,” Lena said quietly. “Can’t pick up.” Now the unease didn’t feel small anymore. Minutes passed; people came and went. Reunions happened all around her, but Lena stayed still. “Okay,” she exhaled, pushing her hair back. “New plan.” She opened her ride app, her movements just a little faster now. If her mom was delayed, she’d just go home and meet her there. Her finger hovered over the screen. Then— Her phone rang. She answer;d instantly. “Mom?” “…Hello, is this Lena Walter?” The voice wasn’t hers; it was a male, and he sounded professional. Something inside Lena dropped. “…Yes,” she said slowly. “Who is this?” “I’m calling from Los Angeles General Hospital.” Lena swallowed. “…Why?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “There’s been an accident.” “What do you mean… accident?” Lena asked, even though part of her didn’t want the answer. “Your mother was involved in a collision on the freeway,” the voice explained carefully. “She was on her way to pick you up.” Her chest tightened sharply. “No—” Lena started, then stopped. “…Is she okay?” she asked, the question barely holding together. Silence. “We need you to come to the hospital.” That wasn’t an answer. That was worse than an answer. “No,” Lena said quickly, shaking her head even though no one could see her. “No, you said accident. People survive accidents all the time. You just—just tell me she’s okay.” Her voice cracked. The silence on the other end stretched too long. “…I’ll send you the address,” the voice said gently. The call ended. Lena stood there, unmoving. The airport noise rushed back all at once—voices, footsteps, announcements—but none of it felt real. Her phone slipped slightly in her hand. She caught it just before it fell. “Okay,” she whispered, her breathing uneven. “Okay… this is fine. I just need to go there.” She nodded to herself. “She’ll be fine.” Her fingers moved automatically, booking the ride. Her body followed without thinking. Everything felt distant. The car ride was quiet. Lena stared out the window, watching the city blur past, her reflection faint against the glass. “She was just coming to pick me up,” she murmured. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She had just come back. Everything was supposed to start again. Not this. Her grip tightened in her lap. Her laptop bag rested against her side, the familiar weight grounding her slightly. That’s what she understood—systems, code, logic. But this? This had no structure. And she hated it. When the car finally stopped, Lena didn’t move immediately. She stared at the hospital building, her chest rising and falling unevenly. “Ma’am?” the driver said gently. She blinked. “Right.” The hospital doors opened automatically. Too easily. Like they were expecting her. Inside, everything smelled too clean and sterile. “Hi,” she said at the front desk, her voice trembling slightly. “I—I got a call. Lena Walter.” The nurse’s expression changed instantly. That was the moment Lena knew. She knew. “I’m so sorry,” the nurse said softly. Lena’s stomach dropped. “Lena?” the nurse asked gently. She nodded. “Come with me.” The walk down the hallway felt endless. At the same time… Across the city, inside a quiet office filled with glass walls and order, Walter Reed's phone rang. He almost ignored it because he was in the middle of reviewing documents, his attention fixed. The phone rang again. He frowned slightly and answered. “Yes?” “Is this Walter Reed?” His expression shifted. “Yes. Who is this?” “I’m calling from Los Angeles General Hospital.” Walter stood up slowly. “…Go on.” “There’s been an accident. Your wife—Vivian Walter—was involved in a freeway collision.” The words landed—but didn’t settle. “What condition?” Walter asked immediately, his voice controlled. There was a pause. “Sir… we need you to come in.” That wasn’t an answer. Walter’s grip tightened around the phone. “I asked you a question.” “It’s serious.” For a moment— Nothing. Then Walter moved fast. The chair pushed back, he grabbed his car key driving down to the hospital as fast as he could. The hospital doors slid open as Walter walked in. Like movement alone could outrun reality. “Walter Reed,” he said at the front desk. “I received a call." The nurse looked at him—and everything changed. “I need to see my wife,” he said. “Sir—” “Now.” Something in his voice made her move. “Please come with me.” The hallway stretched ahead. Walter walked beside her, jaw tight. “She was conscious when she arrived?” he asked. The nurse hesitated, then they stopped. “Sir… I’m very sorry.” The words didn’t process. “Where is she?” he asked. The nurse opened the door. Vivian Walter lay still on the bed. Walter stopped. “No,” he said quietly. “She was driving,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “She’s careful.” “She doesn’t rush intersections.” Silence. “She—” His voice stopped. His hand hovered over hers “You were supposed to pick our daughter up,” he said, his voice tightening. “You said you’d leave early.” For a long moment, he just stood there. Then— A knock Walter didn’t turn at first. “Mr. Reed,” a voice said gently, “someone is here to see you.” He exhaled and looked toward the door— And froze. “...Lena?” She stood there, a travel bag still in her hand. Three years away in Germany had changed her—but not enough. He knew her instantly. For the first time since the call— Walter smiled. Relief flooded his face as he moved toward her quickly. “You’re here… you’re actually here. He pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her like he hadn’t in years. “Look at you,” he said, almost laughing under his breath. “Three years… and you just walk in like that.” Lena held onto him, confused by the warmth, the urgency. “Dad… where’s Mom?” she asked softly. The question lingered. Walter’s smile faded. Slowly He pulled back, his hands still resting on her shoulders as if steadying both of them. “She came to pick you up,” he said quietly. Lena frowned slightly. “I know. She said she was already on the way.” Walter nodded once then stepped aside. Lena walked inside and paused. “…No.” Her voice barely existed. Her mother lay still. Lena stepped forward slowly, like moving too fast might make it real. “Mum…” she whispered. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. You were supposed to be there,” she said, her voice uneven. “You were supposed to complain about traffic… and hug me too tight and say I’ve lost weight…” A tear slipped down her cheek. “That’s what you do,” she whispered. Her fingers tightened slightly, like she could hold on, like she could stop this from being real if she just didn’t let go. “I just got back…” she murmured. That barely existed now. “I just got back.” The room didn’t respond. Nothing did. And just like that— Her mother was gone. “Dad…” Lena said with teary eyes.a He crossed the room slowly and pulled her into a firm embrace. “I’m here,” he said quietly. Lena pulled back slightly. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” she asked, her voice tight. Walter met her eyes. “Because you shouldn’t hear something like this over a phone.” Lena looked away. Back at the bed. “I should’ve told her to wait,” she murmured. “No,” Walter said immediately, sharper than before. “You don’t carry that.” Outside the room, the air felt colder. Neither of them spoke. Until— “Mr. Reed.” They turned.