The Truth Between Us

Alina’s POV Six years was a long time to stay away from home; long enough for familiar streets to feel foreign, for old faces to become strangers, and for the life you left behind to seem as though it belonged to someone else. I stared through the car window as Westbridge came into view. The city looked almost exactly as I remembered it. Tall buildings rose in the distance, expensive stores lined the streets, and polished cars moved through traffic as though everyone had somewhere important to be. Nothing had changed enough to make me feel like a stranger, yet returning still felt harder than I had expected. I had imagined this moment countless times over the past six years. In some versions, I cried. In others, I felt nothing at all. Sometimes I pictured myself getting out of the car, taking one look at the city, and immediately turning around. Instead, I felt strangely calm. Perhaps I had spent so long preparing myself for this that there was nothing left to fear. Or perhaps I had learned to bury certain memories so deeply that I could no longer reach them. My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and saw a message from the real estate agent. Your apartment is ready. The keys have been left with reception. I sent a quick thank-you and put my phone away. The apartment was one of the reasons I had agreed to return. It was not the main reason, but it mattered. My mother had offered to let me stay at the Prescott estate more than once, but I had refused. After six years of building a life away from Westbridge, I could not walk back into my childhood bedroom and pretend nothing had happened. The apartment was close enough to my family for me to reach them whenever necessary, yet far enough away to give me the space I needed. It was a compromise that kept my mother reassured without sacrificing my sanity. The car stopped outside the building. I paid the driver, collected my suitcase, and stood on the pavement for a moment, staring at the entrance. This was it. I was back. Inside, the apartment was smaller than the house where I had grown up, but I liked it immediately. It was quiet, simple, and entirely mine. I left my suitcase beside the couch and walked toward the windows. Westbridge stretched below me, glowing beneath the late afternoon sun. Six years earlier, I had left the city believing I would never return. I had been twenty; young enough to believe leaving could fix everything, but old enough to understand that staying sometimes came with a price no one could afford. My life had been completely different then. University, family dinners, friends who knew everything about me, and Talia appearing at my house without warning. There had been long conversations that lasted until midnight, plans for the future, and Asher. I closed my eyes. No. Not yet. I opened them and turned away from the window. I was not going to let one name ruin my first hour back. Most of my belongings had already arrived because I had sent them ahead. I unpacked my books, clothes, and a few photographs, leaving anything too personal inside the boxes. Over the years, I had learned not to keep too many things capable of pulling me backward. Life away from Westbridge had been quieter. I had changed schools, numbers, and routines. I built new friendships, worked hard, and created a version of myself that did not depend on where I came from. Nobody there knew the entire story. They knew Alina; not the girl who had disappeared from Westbridge six years ago or the one who had loved someone enough to walk away from him. They knew only the person I had chosen to become. I preferred it that way. My phone rang. Mom. I stared at the screen for a moment before answering. “Hi, Mom.” “Alina?” Her voice softened immediately. “Are you there?” “Yes.” “You’ve arrived?” “About twenty minutes ago.” A pause followed. “I didn’t know if you would tell me.” “I told you I’d come.” “I know. I just…” She stopped, and I understood. She had spent weeks worrying that I might change my mind. “I’m here,” I assured her. “How is the apartment?” “Good.” “Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” “Mom.” “I know, I know.” I could almost hear her smile. “I just want you to be comfortable.” “I am.” “Good.” She fell silent again, and I knew there was something else behind the call. “What is it?” “What?” “You called for a reason.” “I only wanted to know that you arrived safely.” “Mom.” She sighed. “I’ve missed you.” My chest tightened. “I’ve missed you too.” “Then come and see me.” I looked toward the window. The Prescott estate was less than twenty minutes away. I could go there, walk through the front door, and see my mother. I could face my father and the rooms I had spent years avoiding. But I was not ready. “Soon,” I said. “When?” “I don’t know.” “Tomorrow?” I smiled despite myself. “You’re negotiating now?” “I’m your mother. I’m allowed.” A quiet laugh escaped me. “I’ll see you soon. I promise.” She remained silent for a moment before saying, “I’m glad you’re home.” The word home sat strangely in my mind. “Me too.” After we ended the call, I placed my phone on the kitchen counter and leaned against it. My mother had sounded relieved, but something uneasy had lingered beneath her words. Three weeks earlier, she had called to tell me that things at home were no longer okay. She had not given me many details. All she said was that my father was making decisions that affected the family and that she needed someone she trusted beside her. I had asked what was happening, but she avoided the question. Instead, she had said the words that brought me back. I need you home, Alina. I could not ignore her, especially when she sounded frightened. Still, returning did not mean I was ready to reopen everything I had worked so hard to bury. I went into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. A small box rested inside my suitcase. I had not opened it in years, but I knew exactly what it contained: photographs, old notes, a bracelet Talia had given me, and one picture I had promised myself never to look at again. I reached for the box and rested my fingers on the lid. Then I stopped. Instead, I pushed it back into the suitcase and zipped it shut. I had spent six years building walls, and I was not going to tear them down on my first night back. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from Talia. Talia: You’re really here? I smiled. Me: Unfortunately. Her response arrived almost immediately. Talia: Don’t annoy me. I’m coming tomorrow. I laughed. Some things really did not change. Me: Fine. I put the phone down and returned to the window. Westbridge was beautiful beneath the evening sky, but its familiarity carried a danger that no outsider would understand. I had come back because my mother needed me. That was the reason I kept repeating to myself; not the memories, the people, or the past. I had no intention of becoming the girl I used to be. Six years had changed me, but I was not sure whether Westbridge had changed enough to let me remain that person. Tomorrow, I would see Talia. Soon, I would see my parents. Eventually, I would have to face everything else. For now, I was alone. For the first time since returning, I allowed myself to admit the truth: I was afraid. Not of Westbridge, my family, or even the memories, but of what might happen if the past recognized me before I was ready to recognize it. I picked up my phone. One new message waited on the screen. It was from my mother. Mom: There’s something I need to tell you when you come home. I stared at the words as my stomach tightened. After a moment, I typed back. Me: Okay. I’ll see you soon. I placed the phone down. For six years, I had believed leaving was the hardest thing I would ever do. Standing alone in that apartment, I realized I might have been wrong. Coming back could be harder. And I had a feeling Westbridge was not going to let me forget why.