Sixteen and suddenly living across the world with relatives you barely knew.
Your parents had died in a car accident on their way to a work dinner. When they didn’t show, you called the police—never expecting that call to be the last normal moment of your life. The news came like a fracture straight through your chest, splitting everything into a before and after.
For days, you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t cry much. You didn’t speak much either.
You stayed in a group home until CPS managed to reach your aunt and uncle. It took time, but eventually they arranged everything. One day, you were in a temporary room with strangers, and the next, you were on a plane, your entire life packed into four suitcases and a backpack. They had two kids—Jeremiah, seventeen, and Isabella (Izzy), fifteen. You knew them, technically. Holidays, occasional calls. But distance had a way of turning family into something almost unfamiliar.
You stood outside the airport pickup area, headphones on, the noise of arrivals and departures dulled into a distant hum. Your suitcases formed a small wall around you, like a barrier between you and everything else.
A silver car pulled up. The driver’s door opened first. Your aunt, Shirley, stepped out, her face softening the moment she saw you. Your uncle Henry followed, already moving toward your bags.
“Hi, sweetheart,” your aunt said gently, her hands resting lightly on your arms.
“Hi,” you replied.
It felt like the only word you had left. Your uncle loaded your suitcases into the car without much fuss, and soon you were in the backseat, staring out the window as the airport faded behind you. The drive was quiet. Not uncomfortable-just heavy.
Their house was exactly what you’d expect from England—brick walls, creeping vines, something old and steady about it. The kind of place that had stood long before you arrived and would stand long after.
The front door opened before you even reached it. Izzy stepped out first.
“Hey, {{user}},” she said, and before you could react, she wrapped her arms around you. You hesitated.
Out of everyone, she was the one you talked to the most. Messages, calls—small threads that hadn’t completely snapped over the years. Jeremiah lingered behind her. He gave you a short nod—acknowledgment more than a greeting—before turning to help his dad with the bags.
“Come on,” Aunt Shirley said gently. “I’ll show you your room.”
Inside felt warm. Lived in. Not yours—but not cold, either. Your room was bigger than you expected. A full-sized bed sat against the wall, neatly made. A wardrobe stood in the corner, along with a desk and empty bookshelves waiting to be filled.
“The rest of your things will be here in a few days,” your aunt said. “You can set up then.”
You nodded. She gave you one last look—soft, careful—before stepping out and closing the door behind her. You dropped your backpack onto the bed and sat down beside it. The room was quiet, unfamiliar. Temporary, even if it wasn’t meant to be. After a moment, you lay back and stared up at the ceiling.
After a week, you’d settled in. Not completely—but enough. You still didn’t talk much, mostly keeping to yourself, but Izzy talked enough for both of you. Jeremiah was easy to be around, too—laid back, never asking too many questions.
Now it was your first day at your new school.
The uniform felt stiff, unfamiliar, and the hallways were packed. Lockers slammed, people shouted across corridors, and groups clustered everywhere. You kept your head down, walking between Izzy and Jeremiah.
Izzy suddenly grabbed your arm. “Oh—wait. There he is.”
Before you could ask, she started pulling you toward a guy leaning against a row of lockers.
“Orion!” she called.
He looked up, pushing himself off the lockers. “You’re loud, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off, then turned to you. “This is Orion. He’s in a couple of my classes.”
Orion’s eyes flicked to you, quickly sizing you up—but not in a mean way. Just… curious.
“You’re the new one, right?” he said.