Ava trembled in her arms.
"But people will say it is. Her dad will. He'll take her from me. He'll send her far away."
Joyce held her even tighter, as if to shield her from every voice in the world.
"Listen. Claire trusted me with you. I will not fail her. And I will not fail you. We'll stay hidden until it's safe. We'll find a place. We'll make a life. You'll go to school. You'll be okay."
Ava drew back, eyes red, searching her mother's face.
"Are you mad at me?" Ava added.
"I'm mad at fear. I'm angry at a world that makes you afraid to be honest about your heart." She cupped Ava's cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears. "But at you? Never. I'm proud of you for telling me."
Ava nodded, then sagged, relief and grief mixing until she could hardly breathe.
"I miss her mum," she whispered. "I don't know where she is. What if he's taken her somewhere? What if she wakes up and I'm gone?"
Joyce pressed her forehead to Ava's.
"We'll find a way to reach her when it's safe. For now, you need to rest. Eat something. Get your strength back. We can't help her if you fall apart."
"Okay."Ava swallowed and nodded again.
Joyce stood and crossed to the small table, lifting a tray she'd ordered from the hotel kitchen—plain rice, grilled chicken, fruit, and a bottle of water. She brought it to the bed.
"Small bites," she said gently. "No rush."
Ava picked up the fork, hands still unsteady. She chewed without tasting, every few seconds blinking hard to keep from crying again.
"After you eat, we'll plan," she said in a calm, practical voice. "We'll find a new place for a while. I'll get you a new phone. We'll change numbers. We'll keep our heads down."
Ava: "Will we ever go back? You sound like I'm never seeing Bella again mum"
Joyce paused.
"Yes, soon. When it's safe. It won't be long. You will see her again soon."
Ava put the fork down and leaned into her, letting her mother's arm tuck around her shoulders.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For believing me. For staying."
"Always."Joyce said with a smile, she didn't know exactly when that soon was but she was determined to find a way.
The room felt very small, very quiet—like a bubble holding two hearts that needed time. Joyce reached over, set the tray aside, and pulled the blankets up to Ava's chin.
"Sleep a little more."
Ava closed her eyes, fingers curled tight around her mother's sleeve, as if she were afraid the world might take even this from her. Joyce sat there in the half-light, listening to her breathing steady, and made a silent promise—to Claire, to Isabella, and most of all to the girl sleeping in her arms:
I will keep her safe.
Days later in Uncle Sam's house, he kept his word. He didn't lecture, didn't pressure—just guided. And when he finally drove her through the grand gates of St. Cecilia's Catholic Academy, Isabella realized she wasn't afraid anymore. Nervous, yes. But not afraid.
The bell tower chimed in the distance as students moved briskly across the courtyard in their pleated skirts and neatly pressed blouses. Some whispered curiously at the sight of the new girl. Sam squeezed her shoulder gently before handing her over to the nun at the entrance.
"This is Isabella," the nun said kindly, calling over a tall girl with an easy confidence about her. "Luna, please show her around."
Luna's gaze lingered on Isabella a second too long. Her smile curved, not just welcoming but… interested.
"Come on," Luna said, voice smooth, almost playful. "Let me show you all the secrets of this place."
For a moment Isabella glanced back at Sam. He gave her the smallest nod of reassurance, and she followed Luna into the courtyard—her first steps into a world she hadn't chosen, but one that suddenly felt less lonely than she expected.
She tried not to notice the way Luna's hair shimmered golden in the sunlight, or how her skirt swayed with effortless grace.
Luna led her through the stone-arched hallways, stopping by the chapel first. "This is the heart of the school," she whispered, as though the vaulted ceilings demanded reverence. "Morning prayers, Sunday mass, choir recitals—it all happens here. If you ever need quiet, this is the place."
They moved to the library next. Rows upon rows of leather-bound books greeted them, the scent of ink and parchment hanging heavy in the air. Luna leaned in close, her shoulder brushing Isabella's. "This is where most girls pretend to study but end up gossiping instead." Her tone was teasing, and Isabella caught herself smiling.
Luna noticed. Her grin widened.
Through the gardens they went, where roses climbed the trellises and students lounged under the afternoon sun. Luna plucked a bloom, tucking it behind Isabella's ear before Isabella could protest. "There," she murmured. "Now you look like you belong."
Heat crept up Isabella's cheeks.
Finally, they reached the dormitories. Luna pushed the door open to reveal a long corridor lined with wooden doors. Girls' laughter echoed from inside. Luna turned to Isabella, her eyes softer now. "This is where you'll live, laugh, cry, and probably get into trouble. Everyone does."
Her gaze lingered again, searching Isabella's face. "Don't worry," she added in a quieter tone, "I'll make sure you survive."
Something in the way she said it—protective, promising—made Isabella's chest tighten in a way she couldn't explain.
They lingered a moment longer in the corridor, the sounds of laughter echoing from behind the doors. Then Luna—smiled mischievously, tugging gently on Isabella's sleeve.
"Come on. I haven't shown you the most important place yet."
She stopped at the very last door at the end of the hall. Pushing it open, she stepped aside to let Isabella in.
The room was simple but warm: two beds neatly made, desks by the window, a wardrobe shared between them. A single shaft of golden evening light fell across the wooden floor. Isabella blinked, scanning the room with curiosity—then froze.
Two beds.
Her heart thudded.
"You mean… this is—" she started, but Luna cut her off with a grin, leaning casually against the doorframe.
"Yup. Our room."
Isabella's lips parted in surprise. "Our?"
Luna crossed the space between them slowly, her steps unhurried, almost deliberate. She reached out, brushing her fingers along the edge of Isabella's desk. "Didn't anyone tell you? I'm your roommate."
The realization made Isabella's chest flutter. She glanced at the bed nearest the window—the one that already had a book lying open, a sweater draped carelessly across it. Luna's bed.
"This is… yours?" Isabella asked softly.
Luna nodded, her smile turning softer, more personal now. "And now it's ours."
The words hung in the air, heavier than they should've been. Isabella felt warmth creeping up her neck as she sank down on the empty bed, her palms pressing into the sheets as though to ground herself.
Luna tilted her head, watching her with that same curious spark she'd had since the moment they met. "Looks like fate wanted us to be more than just tour partners."
She laughed lightly, but something in her eyes told Isabella it wasn't just a joke.
That night, silence fell heavy in the dormitory. Isabella lay on her side, staring at the faint outline of the window across the room. Luna was already asleep, her breathing soft and steady, but Isabella couldn't close her eyes.
Her mind kept replaying the image of Ava—her fearless smile, her hand reaching out that first day on the playground, the warmth that had carried her through so many years. Now, miles away, that memory felt like a thread keeping her from unraveling.
She hugged her pillow closer, whispering into the dark as though Ava could hear her.
"Do you miss me too?"
Somewhere else, far away, Ava was unpacking boxes in a new house her mother had bought. Joyce moved through the rooms, arranging curtains and fixing small things with a determined energy, wanting the house to feel like home immediately. But Ava barely noticed.
She sat by her window, chin resting on her knees, staring out at the quiet street. The house was bigger, newer, but none of it mattered. All she could think about was Isabella. The way she laughed when no one else could make her. The way her eyes softened when she was happy.
Ava sighed, tracing her finger along the foggy glass. "Bella," she whispered, the name catching in her throat.
For both of them, the night was long. Sleep came only in fragments—dreams of stolen moments, of running side by side, of laughter that echoed even when they woke.
And then, in the morning.
Joyce's voice cut through Ava's half-sleep. "Come on, sweetheart. You don't want to be late for your first day."
Ava blinked awake to sunlight spilling across her new room. Her heart pounded—new school, new faces, new everything. She dressed slowly, her mind not on the uniform but on Isabella. Would she be there? Would she smile at her like before?
Downstairs, Joyce was already waiting with the car keys, her expression both nervous and hopeful. As Ava climbed in, Joyce squeezed her hand gently.
"This is a fresh start," she said. "Make the best of it."
Ava nodded, but inside she was only thinking one thing: If Isabella's there, it won't just be a fresh start. It'll be home