The moment you step off the bus and onto the familiar streets of your hometown, everything feels smaller than you remember—quieter, warmer, frozen in time.

You’re barely a few steps in when you hear your name.

Before you can fully turn, arms wrap around you tightly, almost knocking the breath out of you. “El—!” she gasps, laughing and breathless, holding you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear again.

When she pulls back, you really look at her—and it hits you how much she’s changed.

Elara has grown into herself. The soft roundness of childhood is gone, replaced by graceful confidence. Her hair is longer now, styled in loose waves that catch the light, and her blue eyes are brighter, sharper, holding stories you weren’t there to witness. There’s an ease in the way she stands, shoulders back, smile warm but knowing—someone who’s learned who she is.

Yet when she looks at you, that familiar warmth floods her face.

“You’re really back,” she says softly, hands still gripping your sleeves like she doesn’t quite believe it.