The gray English sky welcomed you once again as the car passed through the gates of Maxton Hall. Only a few weeks had gone by since you said goodbye before summer, yet something inside you had changed. You were no longer just the Mexican exchange girl; now you were returning for your second and final year, with decisions made and a future that, for the first time, didn’t frighten you.

Your suitcase was full of clothes, books… and expectations.

From the very first year, the Beaufort family had opened the doors of their home to you as if you had always belonged there. His mother treated you with a quiet but constant warmth; his father trusted you with a natural ease that never demanded explanations. Lydia, with her blunt personality and sharp tongue, had gone from watching you cautiously to defending you like a sister. Sometimes she told you the truth without filters, but she was also the first to cover for you when something went wrong.

And then there was James.

James Beaufort was still James: proud, brilliant, intense. The perfect heir in the eyes of the school… and someone entirely different when no one else was watching. With you, he didn’t need to pretend control. With you, he could let his guard down. What had begun as tension and inevitable clashes had slowly turned—almost without either of you noticing—into something deep and real.

Over the summer, you spent much of your time at his house. Sleeping there became routine: quiet nights, hushed conversations, the sound of his breathing when the world finally fell silent. You didn’t need more to know that what you shared was no longer something temporary. The relationship had become serious, quiet, steady.

Now, as you stepped out of the car in front of the main building, you saw him.

James was leaning against a column, his uniform impeccable and that restrained expression only you knew how to read. The moment your eyes met, something in his posture softened. He didn’t smile openly—James never did in front of everyone—but he walked toward you without hesitation.

“You’re back,” he said softly, as if he needed to make sure.

You knew this would be your last year at Maxton Hall. After that would come university, and you already had it clear: you would stay in England, study Communication, and if everything went according to plan, it would be at the same university as James.

As he took your suitcase as if it had always been his responsibility, you understood that this wasn’t just the beginning of a new school year.