Aria woke slowly, disoriented by silence.
Not the familiar hum of Brooklyn traffic, not the distant sirens, or the neighbor's dog that never seemed to sleep. This silence was different. Thick, cushioned, expensive. It pressed in on her from all sides.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
It was impossibly high. White. Perfect. A crystal chandelier hung above her, catching the light that spilled through tall French windows draped in sheer curtains. Everything in the room looked untouched,as if it existed for show rather than living.
Her room.
The maid led her in the night before, murmuring something about unpacking later, but Aria had barely listened. Exhaustion had swallowed her whole. Now, awake, the reality of it settled deeper.
Aria sat up, her chest tightening.
Last night replayed itself in fragments. The long dining table, the clink of cutlery, Valentin's calm authority, Cecilia's silence. Adrien's uncomfortable glances and Lucien storming out, tension clinging to the room long after he'd gone.
No one had followed him.
She swallowed, pushing the memory aside.
A soft knock came at the door.
Before Aria could answer, it opened slightly.
Cecilia stood there.
Her mother looked... different in the morning light. Still elegant, still composed, but there were shadows beneath her eyes that Aria hadn't noticed before. She hesitated, one hand resting on the doorframe.
"May I come in?" Cecilia asked gently.
Aria didn't respond. She simply shrugged and turned back to the window.
Cecilia stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"I thought you might still be sleeping," Cecilia said at last. "The journey must have been exhausting."
"It was," Aria replied flatly.
Silence again.
Cecilia moved closer, stopping near the foot of the bed. "About last night".
"You don't have to explain his behavior," Aria cut in. "I got the message."
Cecilia flinched slightly.
"That's not what I meant," she said. "I wanted to talk about...us."
Aria laughed under her breath. A short, humorless sound.
"Now?"
"Yes. Now," Cecilia said firmly. "Before you start school. Before things get worse."
That caught Aria's attention. She turned.
"You left," Aria said. "And everything got worse."
The words landed heavily between them.
Cecilia inhaled slowly. "I know."
"No, you don't," Aria snapped. "You weren't there. You didn't see him after you left. My dad..." Her voice faltered before she could stop it.
"He never moved on. Not really, He loved you. He still does."
Cecilia's eyes were filled, but she didn't look away.
"I wasn't trying to destroy him," she said quietly. "Or you."
"So, what were you doing?" Aria demanded. "Finding yourself?"
"Yes," Cecilia answered. "Because I was lost. Because I was unhappy and becoming someone I didn't recognize. And I was afraid that if I stayed, I'd poison everything around me, including you."
Aria stood abruptly. "So instead, you married a billionaire and moved to Paris."
Cecilia winced.
"Valentin isn't..."
"Don't," Aria interrupted. "Don't dress it up like some noble journey. You left us to deal with the damage."
Tears slipped down Cecilia's cheeks now. "I never forgot about you," she whispered. "Not for a day."
"Then why does it feel like you did?" Aria asked.
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
After a long moment, Cecilia wiped her face and straightened. "I know I can't fix everything, but I want to try. I thought maybe we could go out today, get you a few things for school. Spend some time together."
Aria shook her head immediately. "I need space."
Cecilia hesitated. "Adrien could go with you."
"No," Aria said sharply. Then, softer, "I want to go alone."
Cecilia studied her for a moment, then nodded. She reached into her handbag and placed a sleek black card on the dresser.
"For whatever you need," she said. "No limits".
That, at least, felt honest.
After Cecilia left, Aria dressed slowly, choosing simple clothes that felt like hers. On her way out, she passed a closed door at the end of the corridor.
Lucien's room.
She paused.
She hadn't heard him since last night. No footsteps. No voice. Nothing.
Good, she told herself. She didn't want to deal with him anyway.
Aria got into the limo, which had already been parked waiting for her downstairs.
"Where to, ma'am?" The driver asked as he closed the car door and started the Limo
"Take me to the best boutique around here, please."
"Sure thing, ma'am," The driver said as he drove out of the mansion.
The boutique was tucked between two quiet streets, its tall, spotless glass windows displaying mannequins in soft neutrals and sharp silhouettes. Everything looked effortless. Expensive in a way that didn't need to announce itself.
Aria hesitated at the entrance before stepping inside.
The air smelt faintly of perfume and polished wood. Racks of clothing stood neatly spaced, fabrics flowing instead of hanging stiffly. This wasn't the kind of store where people rushed or talked loudly. Even the silence felt curated.
A sales assistant glanced up and smiled politely, neither overly eager nor dismissive.
"Bonjour," she said. "Please take your time."
Aria nodded and wandered deeper into the store, her fingers brushing against fabric she knew her dad would never have let her buy without asking questions. Silk. Cashmere. Tailored coats that probably cost more than her entire Brooklyn wardrobe combined.
She told herself she didn't care where the money came from. Not today.
As she turned down another aisle, she collided lightly with someone.
"Oh, sorry," the girl said quickly, steadying herself.
Aria looked up. The girl was around her age, maybe a year older. Blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail, simple gold hoops, dressed casually but in a way that looked put together.
"It's fine," Aria replied, stepping back.
The girl smiled, easy and curious. "You're not from around here, are you?"
Aria stiffened slightly. "Is it that obvious?"
She laughed softly. "Only because you're looking at everything like it might disappear if you blink."
Then, more gently, "I did the same in my first week."
Something about that made Aria relax, just a little.
"I'm Aria."
"Camille," the girl replied, "You starting school soon?"
Aria paused. "Yeah. I think so."
Camille groaned. "Last year was brutal. Especially at Saint-Clair. Rules, drama, pressure everywhere." She rolled her eyes before smiling again. "At least the Teachers are obsessed with discipline."
"Sounds...fun," Aria said dryly.
Camille laughed. "Good luck surviving it."
With a small wave, she disappeared towards the counter, leaving Aria standing there longer than she meant to.
Saint-Clair.
So that was it.
Aria exhaled slowly and turned back to the racks. She picked out pieces she liked, paid for her stuff with her mum's credit card without feeling any form of guilt, and headed back into the limo.
By evening, exhaustion returned.
Back in her room, she noticed something hanging neatly by the wardrobe.
A garment bag.
Inside, laid out with careful precision, was her school uniform.
A dark navy blazer with a discreet embroidered crest. A crisp white shirt, structured and flawless. A pleated skirt tailored perfectly, every line intentional.
It was beautiful in a cold, polished way.
Expensive. Immaculate.
And not her.
Aria stared at it for a long moment, her chest tightening.
Tomorrow, this would be her reality.
A new school. A new life. A world she didn't ask for.
She turned away, switching off the light.
Somewhere down the corridor, a door remained closed.
