"Elaraaa! We're getting late again!" her mom's voice called out from downstairs, half-exasperated, half-laughing.
Elara May Dawson was halfway between picking her outfit and trying to fix her hair in front of vanity mirror. Her room was its usual mix of cozy chaos — soft pink blankets bundled at the edge of the bed, open novels stacked in rainbow piles, fluffy socks on the floor like petals, and a laptop glowing with unfinished essays.
She was a whirlwind of contradictions — playful yet grounded, soft yet shockingly sharp. Everyone called her sweet, and she was — with her cute giggle and warm hugs .
She ran a brush through her chestnut brown hair, the strands falling in silky waves over her shoulders, a few curling rebelliously around her cheeks. Her skin was a soft milky cream, glowing with that effortless kind of pretty — like she drank moonlight. There was a tiny mole on her neck, just below her ear, and two faint fang-like dents on either side of her collarbone — vampire flags, her best friend used to tease.
Her eyes were velvet brown when she was calm, but turned a rich chocolate shimmer when she was excited or teasing. Her chubby cheeks puffed slightly when she pouted, and her signature smile? It was sunshine. That rare kind of eye-smile where her lashes curled and her whole face tilted like it was hugging you.
"Elaraaaa," her mom called again.
"Coming!" she replied in her cute, slightly husky voice, the accent a blend of Aussie softness and warmth. Her tone had that playful tone — like every sentence had a secret giggle hiding behind it.
They were coming to her house tonight.
Arden Hayes. The boy with sleepy eyes and mischievous grins. Her childhood bestie. Her tea-party partner. Her forever pinky promise.
He was back in Perth after four years in London, and tonight was the first time they'd see each other again. Her heart did a little cartwheel just thinking about it.
But maybe… just maybe… she wanted to look a little cute tonight. Just in case he still remembered their secret lake spot. Or the day she kissed his cheek and called him her "London Prince."
She smirked at her reflection and threw on her soft cardigan.
"Let's go, mamaaa," she chimed, skipping down the stairs, all soft clouds and cherry-blossom energy
Tonight, childhood memories were coming back.
And maybe… something new was beginning too.
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