Aria blinked awake to the soft morning light slipping through the hospital blinds. Her head was still throbbing, but it was dull and annoying; at least the room wasn't spinning anymore. A nurse came in, checked her blood pressure, and gave her dad a small nod.

"Good news. She's cleared to go home," The nurse said with a kind smile.

"Thanks a lot, nurse," Her dad said as he stood up and adjusted his shirt.

Aria glanced at him and noticed how tired his eyes were and how wrinkled his shirt looked, which made her feel even guiltier.

As they walked out of the hospital together, he didn't say a word, no yelling or shouting. Just silence, and that made Aria feel uneasy, she knew she deserved it.

Aria sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, as her dad made a phone call and eventually started driving. The entire ride was awkwardly silent.

No music. No words 

Trying to break the tension, she decided to apologize one more time, maybe it might change his mind. "Dad, I'm really sorry," she said quietly.

"We'll talk when we get home," He replied quietly, hands gripping the steering wheel a little bit too tightly.

The car pulled into the driveway, and Aria felt her stomach twist. The house looked the same as always, but something felt different now, like she was coming back to somewhere she no longer belonged.

Her dad stepped out first, grabbed the keys, and walked straight to the front door. Still silent. Aria followed behind him, fingers nervously tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie.

Inside, her suitcase was already waiting by the staircase.

Her heart dropped.

This is it.

He had really done it.

He had really packed for her.

Her dad cleared his throat.

"I didn't touch everything", he said quietly.

"Just put the basics together. You can add the rest yourself."

Aria looked down at the half-filled suitcase. Clothes folded too neatly, toothbrush tucked into thepocket, her favorite jacket placed carefully on top. All done by him, all done because she was leaving.

"They've arranged the Jet, it leaves by nine. We need to be at the airstrip by eight-thirty".

Nine.

It was really happening today.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The anger she expected wasn't there anymore. Just a sinking feeling in her chest, heavy and empty at the same time.

Her dad rubbed his forehead, exhausted.

"Listen, Aria, I'm not doing this to get rid of you. I'm doing it because I don't know how else to help you. Maybe... maybe being somewhere new will change things."

Aria swallowed hard.

"I promised you I was going to change", she whispered.

"I know"

The words were soft. Sad.

"But sometimes wanting to change isn't enough."

Aria picked up her suitcase and headed upstairs to finish packing. Her hands trembled as she folded her underwear and packed a few books and pictures. Every item she packed made everything feel more real.

She realized she hadn't checked her phone in hours, and she didn't even feel the urge to.

Between Brooklyn and Paris, between her dad and a mum she barely knew anymore...

She was really between two worlds now.

A few minutes later, Aria dragged her suitcase down the stairs, and her dad was already at the door, keys in hand. He wanted to speak, tell her how much he loved her and how much he wanted her to stay, but he couldn't find the right words.

They walked out together and got into the car.

The city was barely awake, the trees were quiet, and the sunlight was still early. Aria plugged in her AirPods in one ear just in case her dad decided to speak to her, which she doubted. The whole ride had been filled with silence, and she stared at the window, letting her thoughts take absolute control of her.

"Please...just try to make the best of it". Her dad said quietly as he fixed the rear mirror of his car. 

Aria didn't answer. She just nodded, letting the words wash over her without really hearing them. The city passed by in a blur of early morning grey and gold sunlight, buildings she knew so well now feeling distant and strange.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack, and she tried to keep her breathing steady. She wasn't ready to cry. She wasn't ready to speak. She wasn't ready for any of this.

They pulled up to a small, gated airstrip. The sight of the sleek private jet sitting on the runway made her stomach twist. Everything about it screamed luxury she had never known, and people she had never met. Staff in crisp uniforms stepped forward as soon as they saw her, politely guiding her towards the jet.

Her dad parked and stepped out, keeping his eyes on the ground for a moment before looking up at her. He tried to smile, but it faltered.

"Call me when you land", he said simply. "I'll be waiting for your message".

Aria swallowed the lump in her throat. She nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she picked up her suitcase. Words didn't come. She didn't want to say goodbye. Not yet, not like this.

As she stepped onto the jet, she glanced back. Her dad was standing by his car, silent, the early morning sunlight catching the tired lines on his face. He lifted a small, tentative wave. Aria pressed her palm on the window instinctively, as if she could hold onto him through the glass.

The engines started with a soft roar, and the jet began to fly. The city beneath them slowly shrank, and she felt the weight of leaving everything behind pressing down on her chest.

Her old life was disappearing.

And ahead of her stretched a new world, cold, unfamiliar, and completely unknown.

Hours later, the gentle chime of the seatbelt sign pulled Aria from her thoughts. The jet descended smoothly, barely a tremor as it touched. No loud announcements, no rush of passengers, just quiet efficiency, which was quite bizarre, since she was used to regular airplanes, not that she travelled often either. Aria felt the jet slow beneath her, and before she could fully process it, the engines softened, and the cabin lights brightened.

They had landed.

When the door opened, cool air rushed in. Crisp, sharp, and unfamiliar. The private airstrip was calm and almost eerily quiet, a wide stretch of clean concrete bordered by trimmed grass and sleek security vehicles. No crowd, no noise. Just a simple black SUV waiting nearby, its windows tinted dark.

A man in a tailored suit stepped forward. "Miss Hart," he said politely. "I'm Marcel, I'll be taking you to the estate".

Of course, her mum wasn't there, Aria thought as she rolled her eyes in silence. 

Aria slid into the backseat, the leather soft beneath her fingers, the car gliding forward almost silently. As Paris unfolded outside the window, her breath caught a mixture of wonder and apprehension swelling within her. Old stone buildings rose elegantly on the streets, balconies wrapped in iron railings, cafes just opening with chairs neatly arranged outside. The city's calm, graceful atmosphere stood in stark contrast to her tumultuous emotions, leaving her awed and out of place. Paris appeared self-assured, its beauty unquestioned, while Aria struggled to find her footing in this unfamiliar world.

Nothing like Brooklyn.

Nothing like home.

The SUV slowed as it turned onto a long private driveway. Tall iron gates stood open, gold details catching the light as the car passed through. Beyond them stretched manicured gardens, fountains carved from stone, and a mansion so large that Aria's breath caught before she could stop it.

This wasn't a house.

It was an estate.

The car came to a stop at the foot of wide marble steps. The engine shut off, and for a moment, everything was quiet. Too quiet.

Aria stepped out, pulling her suitcase behind her. The wheels of her suitcase clicked softly against the cobblestone driveway, the sound echoing in the open space. She barely had time to take it all in before a woman in crisp black and white uniform approached her.

"May I take your luggage, miss?" the maid asked with a smile 

Aria tightened her grip.

"I can carry it".

Of course, she wouldn't hand it over, a little rebellious, yes, but she wasn't a spoiled brat.

"It's alright", a calm voice said.

Aria turned.

Cecilia stood at the top of the steps, perfectly composed in a tailored coat, her posture straight, her expression carefully neutral. She looked exactly how Aria remembered: elegant, distant, untouchable.

For a heartbeat, an old memory stung at the back of Aria's mind, her small hand wrapped in Cecilia's, sunlight streaming into their Brooklyn kitchen as Cecilia brushed her hair and murmured a lullaby. That memory felt impossibly far away now, thin and fragile against the cold edge of their reunion. 

"Let her take it, " her mum added gently. "You must be exhausted".

Reluctantly, Aria released the suitcase. The maid wheeled it away with ease, and the moment her hands were empty, Aria felt strangely exposed.

Cecilia descended the steps slowly.

"Welcome to Paris, Aria".

Aria scoffed

"Sure".

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

For a short second, Cecilia paused. Something unreadable crossed her eyes. Guilt, maybe, before her expression smoothed again.

"We'll talk later", she said softly. "For now, you should rest."

No hug

No apology

No explanation

Not like Aria was expecting one anyway, Cecilia turned open the doors, and Aria followed quietly.

Inside, the mansion felt even more overwhelming: polished marble floors, a sweeping staircase, and chandeliers sparkling above her like distant stars. Staff lined the walls in silence; maids, a butler, perhaps a house manager each greeting her politely while their watchful gazes made her feel both fragile and out of place.

Then she felt it.

Eyes on her.

Aria glanced up.

Two boys stood near the staircase.

The older one leaned casually against the railing, dark hair falling into sharp blue eyes, his posture relaxed in a way that felt dangerous. A small silver bar pierced his eyebrow, catching the light just enough to draw attention to his already cutting gaze. One arm was inked from shoulder to wrist, a dark sleeve tattoo that stood out against his perfectly fitted shirt and hinted at things he didn't bother explaining.

He looked over slowly, openly unimpressed. 

Lucien Duclair.

"Well," he said dryly, "you don't look like you belong here".

Aria stiffened.

"And you don't look like someone whose opinion I asked for".

Lucien's lips curled, not amused, not angry, just intrigued.

Before he could reply, Adrien shifted beside him.

He looked like Lucien's mirror image softened by sunlight. The same blue eyes, but warmer, brighter, the kind that actually invited people in. His blonde hair fell loosely over his forehead, slightly tousled, like he never bothered to tame it. 

He was tall too, built just as solid, but where Lucien felt sharp and dangerous, Adrien felt easy, relaxed shoulders, open posture, confidence without the edge.

"Lucien", he murmured, shooting his brother a warning look before turning to Aria with a small, genuine smile, revealing his dimples.

"I'm Adrien", he added. "Welcome".

Aria nodded slightly, unsure of what to make of him.

The warmth in his voice caught her off guard, and she didn't like that it did.

"Ew, Aria thought, annoyed as she pushed the feeling away.

Cecilia cleared her throat, interrupting her train of thought.

"Aria, this is Valentin".

Aria turned to see Valentin Duclair standing a few steps behind Cecilia. Tall, calm, controlled. His presence felt heavy enough.

"We're glad you arrived safely", he said 

"Yeah, right". Lucien scoffed as he walked upstairs to his room.

"Lucien, you will not disrespect your father like that". Cecilia yelled, but he was already gone.

A maid walked up to Aria and gestured towards the staircase,

Cecilia spoke again, easing the tension as Adrein and Valentin left. 

"Your room is ready".

"What's his problem?" Aria said to herself as she rolled her eyes and followed.

She didn't understand why his words stayed longer than they should have.

Paris was beautiful.

The mansion was breathtaking.

But as she climbed the stairs surrounded by strangers who were supposed to be family, one thing became painfully clear,

This place wasn't freedom.

It was a gilded cage.

The maid led Aria down a quiet corridor, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors. Every step echoed, the house too large, too silent, as if it was holding its breath.

"This will be your room, miss". The maid said, opening a pair of tall white doors.

Aria stepped inside and froze.

The room was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked rolling green hills and distant mountains, crisp white sheets. There was a sitting area by the windows, a desk made of dark wood, and a walk-in wardrobe that looked bigger than her entire bedroom back in Brooklyn.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

And completely unfamiliar.

"Dinner will be announced shortly," The maid added quietly before taking her leave.

Aria stood there for a long moment, her suitcase still in her hand. None of it felt real. None of it felt like hers.

She dropped her bag by the bed and walked into the wardrobe, staring at the empty shelves waiting to be filled. The silence pressed in on her chest. Back home, her room was messy, cramped, loud. It smelt like old books and cheap perfume. It felt lived in.

This felt like a showroom.

Exhaustion finally caught up with her. She kicked off her shoes, collapsed onto the bed, and before she could even process where she was, sleep pulled her under.

Her phone buzzing against the mattress woke her.

Aria groaned, squinting at the screen.

Cassie.

She hesitated, then answered.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Oh my God," Cassie breathed. "Aria, I'm so sorry. I should have picked up. I didn't know."

"It's fine," Aria cut in, rubbing her forehead.

'I'm okay."

A pause.

"Where are you?"

"Paris."

Another pause. Longer this time.

"Paris? Cassie repeated. "Like... Paris-Paris?"

"Yeah," Aria said, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. "Long story."

Cassie sounded shaken now. "I didn't mean for anything to happen. I swear, I feel horrible."

"I know," Aria said softly. And she did, but hearing Cassie's voice made everything feel farther away. Like Brooklyn belonged to another version of her.

They talked for a few more minutes about nothing important, about everything she wasn't there for anymore. When the call ended, the room felt even quieter.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Miss Aria," a voice called. "Dinner is ready."

The dining room looked like something out of a magazine. A long table, perfectly set plates, soft lighting. Valentin Duclair sat at the head, composed as ever. Cecilia sat beside him, elegant and restrained. Adrien offered Aria a small, reassuring smile as she took her seat, and she forced one back.

Lucien arrived last.

He moved with an unbothered ease, one hand shoved into his pocket as he pulled out his chair. He didn't rush, didn't apologize. His forearm rested casually against the table, sleeve pushed up just enough to reveal his bicep and ink disappearing beneath his shirt cuff.

He looked bored. Dangerous. Like he'd already decided he didn't want to be there.

"Why did someone this rude have to have such good features?" Aria thought to herself as she stared at him. Lucien turned his head towards her, and she jolted back to reality.

Halfway through the meal, Valentin set down his cutlery.

"Aria", he said calmly, turning to her. "You'll be enrolling at Saint Clair Academy. It's already arranged".

Her fork paused in mid-air.

"Oh, okay," she said, forcing a smile, not like she cared about what school she attended anyway.

"You'll be in the final year," Cecilia added gently.

Adrien glanced at her, offering a small smile.

"We'll be in the same class," he said. "I can help you find your way around".

Lucien let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

Valentin's gaze shifted. "Something amusing?"

Lucien leaned back in his chair. "Just interesting how everything is always arranged".

Cecilia's voice tightened. "Lucien, please."

"No," He replied flatly. "I'm tired of pretending this is normal."

Valentin's expression remained calm. "Your grades are slipping."

Lucien's jaw clenched. "Stop monitoring my life."

"You're wasting opportunities," Valentin said evenly. "Opportunities others would kill for."

Lucien scoffed. "Right. Because I'm not Adrien."

The table went still.

Lucien pushed his chair back, standing abruptly.

His eyes flickered to Aria. Sharp, assessing, like he was trying to decide something

Then his gaze hardened.

"Enjoy the school," he said flatly, before turning and walking out.

No one followed him.

Valentin cleared his throat and resumed eating. Cecilia stared at her plate. Adrien looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to say something but didn't know how.

Aria's mind stayed on the sound of Lucien's footsteps disappearing down the hall.

She told herself that she didn't care that Lucien walked out.

The lie sat heavily in her chest.