Milan Parker took a drag from his cigarette, effortlessly exhaling a series of smoke rings that Aylin Scott found unexpectedly captivating. Taking a breath herself, she inhaled a trace of the smoke. Her action caught Milan's attention, and he softly asked, "Aylin?"

Though he was only her uncle by marriage, Milan often felt a genuine warmth toward Aylin—an affection that came from deep within, not something superficial. However, he was a man of few words, and he worried that expressing his feelings might intimidate her.

Aylin was caught off guard for a moment. She looked at her uncle and gave a gentle smile, responding, "Yes, Uncle?"

Milan responded with a bright smile, "You did well on your exams!" But his attempt at appearing relaxed came off a bit awkward.

"I... I passed?!" Aylin exclaimed with sensitivity, leaping out of the shadow of smoke with her words.

Milan made a secretive gesture, leaning in closer to whisper, "Keep it down; they want to surprise you!"

At that moment, Salem Gibson burst in from the other room, wrapping an arm around Milan's neck. "Dad! That's not fair! We agreed to surprise Aylin, and you've already let it slip. Mom, look at Dad! He's unbelievable!"

Julissa Gibson chuckled as she walked in. "You knew your dad couldn't keep a secret, yet you still told him!"

"Fine, I blew it! But let me tell the rest. Uncle, Granny, Aylin really made us proud this time. She ranked third in the entire city!" Salem announced, sharing the news with enthusiasm.

Aylin's long anticipation was finally fulfilled. She felt as if she had transformed from being invisible to becoming the center of attention—an experience she rarely encountered. She nearly forgot the coldness that surrounded her as her life suddenly seemed vibrant. However, she noticed her grandmother Kayleigh Gardner's tense expression, and her heart sank. Although she couldn’t predict her grandmother’s reaction, she knew it was inevitable.

Kayleigh, who had endured hunger and hardship during the 1960s to raise her children, never concealed her emotions. Among her children, she felt that she had made significant sacrifices. "Don't get too excited yet!" Her sudden outburst caught everyone off guard, disrupting the genuine joy in the room.

"Raiden Gardner, listen to me. If you have the means, pay for your daughter’s schooling—high school, college, even abroad. But if you can't afford it, don’t pretend otherwise. If you're out of funds, let your dear daughter work on the farm! I won’t spare a cent of my savings," Kayleigh declared. Though aware of her limited savings and the fact that Aylin's education was not her responsibility, what truly mattered to Kayleigh was keeping Aylin's mother out of the picture.

Raiden looked at his furious mother in shock, "Mom, what are you saying?!"

"Don't call me Mom! You ungrateful child! Your sister and brother-in-law stepped up to raise that unfortunate girl, and you wouldn’t let them! Now you want her to go to college? Do you have the funds? Where’s her mother? What about your responsibility?" Grandma Kayleigh stormed over, pinching Raiden’s leg. "It's on you! You brought that woman into the family, leaving such a burden. You deal with it!"

As bitterness welled up, Aylin's tears began to fall uncontrollably.

Julissa quickly comforted her, wiping away her tears. Her heart ached for Aylin. But knowing her mother's unyielding nature, Julissa knew she couldn’t argue right or wrong, so she tried to diffuse the tension with lightheartedness. "Mom, come on! We should be celebrating her success, not getting upset."

Kayleigh shrugged off her daughter's hand. "Stay out of this! Don’t waste your kindness on those who don’t appreciate it! Milan, Julissa, mark my words—if Aylin wants to continue her education, neither of you should help. Salem is about to start college; we need to prioritize that!"

"Mom, Julissa and I already discussed this—we'll handle the expenses," Milan said calmly.

"No, that’s not happening," Kayleigh retorted, her tone softening slightly. "I know you mean well, Milan, but it's a significant financial commitment. It wouldn’t be fair to burden your family."

Milan maintained his calm demeanor, “We’ve already planned for this.”

"I said stop!" Grandma Kayleigh banged the table for emphasis.

"If you’re not going to help, that doesn’t mean we can’t," Milan, usually a straightforward man, stood his ground. "Mom, I may be an outsider, but I’ve watched Aylin grow. This achievement is hers, and as her grandmother, you should be proud! Why would you deny her this opportunity? She’s your granddaughter, part of the family's future..."

"Are you suggesting I don’t care for her?" Grandma Kayleigh’s face flushed with anger.

"You know your feelings better than anyone, and I won’t say more!" Milan’s words were sharp, and everyone knew it, though no one intervened. This only fueled Kayleigh's frustration.

“Milan Parker, listen here! You once scraped and saved for Julissa to go to college, but now that life is better, you expect me, an old widow, to fund her education? That’s not my duty! And who are you to lecture me?”

Typically reserved, Milan was now resolute. “I’ll cover Aylin’s education and living expenses, no matter what. Raiden, she may be your daughter, but I don’t care about anyone’s pride in this family. I only care about Aylin's future! You all don’t owe me anything!”

With that, Milan Parker walked out, leaving behind a room full of stunned silence.

Aylin’s college days unfolded quietly, a peaceful and orderly experience in a place where no one knew or cared about her past. Just as she had hoped, she found happiness and calmness. Happiness, she discovered, could be simple, like chatting about nothing with her roommates. Before, she wouldn’t have believed she could share so much with girls her age or feel a sense of belonging. She wondered if she should have stayed in the dorms during high school instead of living with her aunt.

After their orientation concluded, the empty bed in their dorm finally got an occupant. A girl named Julissa Lawson moved in. Not conventionally pretty, she had a pale complexion and carried herself with stylish flair and a cool demeanor that drew attention.

Julissa settled into the last available top bunk, descending using the communal desk by the window. Her painted black nails added to her rebellious vibe. In front of five pairs of curious eyes, she ripped open a packet of instant mac and cheese, casually mixing the cheese powder without any introduction.

Cindy Larson fetched a thermos from the entrance, offering it with a friendly smile, "Here you go."

Julissa took the thermos, her long fingers testing the cap, muttering, “This is what you call hot water?” She set the thermos on the table and tossed the instant mac and cheese into the trash before striding out in her sneakers.

The five girls exchanged puzzled looks.

Cindy glared at the discarded food, frustration rising. "Seriously, who does she think she is? Not even a thanks, and she acts like she owns the place. I just want to...!"

Aylin gave Cindy a calming smile, "Let it go, Cindy, just let it go."

Eva sighed, "With her around, we should watch ourselves."

Faye glanced at Eva, "Watch ourselves? She hasn't done anything. Let's just go about our business."

Annie mused, "How’d she skip orientation? We all had to sit through introductions while that organizer droned on. Someone important must be helping her."

The girls watched Annie with admiration, nodding at her insight. Surely, Julissa was related to someone influential or was the daughter of a wealthy tycoon.

Faye nudged Annie playfully, “Don’t talk about my dad like that!”

“Oh really, since when did he become yours?” Cindy teased.

Aylin stayed silent, pondering Annie’s words. She thought of her good friend Milena Gibson, who came from a wealthy family yet was grounded and kind. She believed most affluent kids were well-mannered. But she didn’t argue with Annie, knowing Annie liked to assert herself and outshine others. Aylin preferred to keep the peace.

That night, the dorm was unusually quiet. It wasn’t about fearing Julissa but more that the atmosphere felt different, lacking the usual vibrancy.

The following day, on their first day of classes, the students were early and eager, yet the professor hadn’t arrived.

A petite girl, whom Cindy dubbed “London Sprout,” whispered to her neighbor, “Hey, did you hear? Our Literature Intro professor had a personal emergency. They've gone to Switzerland to recover. Professor Dermot Bell is stepping in.”

“Really? Is he famous?”

“Don’t say that! Professor Bell is legendary. Imagine, still charming at his age! I heard his wife is barely past thirty.”

“You’re kidding!”

Aylin deliberately listened in, her heart skipping a beat. She’d heard of Dermot Bell, a seasoned professor with national acclaim, often publishing in prestigious journals. He typically taught graduate students. If the rumors were true, they were incredibly fortunate to have him.

Shortly after, a distinguished-looking elderly man in his seventies entered, sporting frameless glasses and gray-white hair. He looked lively. The rumors about his much younger wife seemed to fit the mold of the older-man-younger-woman stereotype. Was this what they called “a golden couple”?

“If you're well, it's a sunny day.” These were both Raiden Palmer’s wishes and her new husband Dustin Scott’s promise. But what Aylin most wanted to know was whether her late love, Eren Murray, also shared this sentiment from the afterlife. From now on, her name, her soul, her body, her entire future belonged to the man before her. Did Eren, in some distant realm, comprehend all this? If he knew, was he shedding tears of sorrow or tears of joy?

A sharp pang hit Aylin, followed by uncontrollable tears.

Dustin cupped her face, kissing away her tears, “Trust me, I’ll make sure you’re happy.”

Aylin opened her eyes, damp lashes blinking up at him, “Dustin, if I’m not a good wife at first, please bear with me. I’ve married you, and I’m determined to love and protect you and our home.”

Dustin hugged her tightly, saying nothing. He understood his wife more each day. He also knew what she meant by “not a good wife at first.” Deep down, he was troubled by the fact that she still held a place in her heart for a man no longer living. Yet, despite his jealousy, his love for her remained unshaken. Love had a mysterious way of existing, regardless of the circumstances.

Suddenly, Aylin pulled away from his embrace, “Dustin, these days I’ve noticed something odd about my dad and uncle. My aunt and uncle keep saying they’ll visit but never do. Something’s being kept from me.”

Aylin didn’t need to say more; Dustin also noticed the change. Over the past few days, Raiden Gardner and Milan Parker, apart from their forced cheerful demeanor around his parents, were mostly silent. At first, he attributed it to unfamiliarity and them trying to restrain their joy to avoid seeming too exuberant. However, he eventually began to doubt whether they were truly happy. When he first met them in New York, they were very different.

“Maybe we should call them now? We’re finished with our wedding, and they might be more open.”

Aylin nodded, pulling out her phone to dial Raiden’s number. As the call connected, she was surprised by the noise in his background, “Dad, where are you and Uncle?”

Before Raiden could answer, she heard the announcement for boarding, “Attention passengers, the train to Los Angeles is now boarding at Gate D.”

“Dad, when did you buy tickets? Why didn’t you tell me?” Aylin switched the phone to her other hand, glancing at the clock by the bed—it was already 9 PM. She knew the train departed at 9:34, and it was too late for her to make it, “Dad, I’ve gotten married without a hitch, you can tell me now if something’s wrong at home, can’t you?”

Raiden didn’t respond, merely standing by the boarding area, phone in hand, and quietly sobbing.

Milan Parker stood beside him, speaking into the phone, “Aylin? It’s time we told you the truth. On the morning of January 5th, your grandmother had a severe stroke and was hospitalized. Her left arm and leg lost all sensation, and her mind is clouded. We didn’t want to tell you with your wedding around the corner—it was her wish too… She’s not doing well, Aylin. The hospital issued a critical notice. Your father and I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Tears streamed down Aylin's face like a broken string of pearls. Her heart sank into a confusion of emotions: shock, sorrow, fear, guilt…

“Aylin?” Dustin asked gently, concerned by her expression. “What happened?”

Aylin turned off the phone, looking up, “Dustin, I need to go home. My grandmother is critical.”

Dustin lovingly stroked her hair, “Okay, let’s go.”

Aylin Scott finally managed to escape from the cold, emotionless house. As she walked from her aunt's home to the prestigious Dublin High School, everything seemed more vibrant than usual. The sky felt exceptionally blue, the grass greener, and even the scorching September sun seemed gentle. It was all like a dream, delightful yet surreal. Her dreams, which had been buried under her grandmother's harsh words and the cruelty of reality, were suddenly revived, and Aylin could hardly believe it was all real.

A young female teacher stepped into the classroom. She appeared to be around twenty-three or twenty-four years old, fair-skinned and attractive, with bangs framing her face and long hair cascading down to her waist. Her eyes were bright and expressive, and beneath her delicate nose was a gentle smile that seemed to hold an unspoken charm. Unable to resist, Aylin smiled at her. In a classroom filled with youthful faces, her smile was hardly noticeable, and nobody seemed to register her quiet joy. It had been a long time since she had smiled like that.

The teacher wrote "Marta King" on the blackboard and then turned to face the students with a bright smile, both excited and slightly nervous. "From today onward, I'll be your homeroom teacher. You can call me Ms. King or, if you like, just Marta. I just graduated from college, and I'm excited to start this new chapter with all of you. I hope we can work well together and tackle the challenges ahead as a team," she said warmly, her movements lively like those of a big kid. Aylin found herself captivated not just by Ms. King's appearance but by the vibrant energy she exuded.

"Now, let's take attendance and get to know each other." Ms. King stepped down from the podium with the attendance sheet in hand. "Jack Harper—"

"Present!" a voice responded.

"Abigail Wilson?"

"Here!"

...

"Aylin Scott?"

The classroom was silent. Ms. King scanned the room and repeated, "Aylin Scott? Is there no Aylin Scott in this class?"

The uncomfortable silence was overwhelming. Aylin felt as if she were sitting on pins and needles. Gathering her courage, she stood and stammered, "Sorry, that's me! My name is Aylin Scott!" As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized she had drawn the attention of the entire class. Her heart raced, and she couldn't remember what she had just said.

"Oh, really? I'm sorry, there was a mistake on the attendance sheet," Ms. King apologized with a smile and took a moment to observe the girl standing before her. She noticed Aylin's strikingly beautiful appearance—her long, dark hair framed her face, tied back simply, and her serene yet melancholic eyes. Despite her natural beauty, Aylin carried an air of aloofness and detachment. She wore a simple beige linen blouse, understated yet elegant. Ms. King touched her shoulder gently and said, "Please take a seat, Aylin."

Aylin sat back down, her heart still pounding rapidly, while Ms. King moved on to call other names. Aylin realized that the emotional turmoil existed only in her mind; it hadn't disturbed anyone else. Yet her heart continued to race for the rest of the morning.

"Hey, Aylin, let's be pals!" A voice suddenly spoke up beside her, startling Aylin. She looked over to see a girl with a charming smile, short hair, and bright, lively eyes. Her grin revealed dimples and a mischievous glint in her eyes, much like a playful kitten. Aylin hadn't even noticed she had a seatmate.

"I'm Milena," the girl extended her hand towards Aylin.

Aylin hesitated for a moment but then shyly shook her hand. "Hi," she replied, feeling slightly awkward. But soon she smiled more naturally, realizing that this new environment was a fresh, promising start—a vibrant teacher, a cheerful new friend. Everything seemed so invigorating, and Aylin was determined to adapt to it all.

In the following class, Mr. Garcia, the teacher, was intense and full of energy, his lectures lively and packed with historical anecdotes. They made the lessons exciting and engaging. However, Aylin still preferred the warmth and approachability of someone like Ms. King.

Suddenly, Mr. Garcia approached Aylin's desk and tapped his fingers pointedly on it. "This student, can you share your thoughts on digital literature?"

Caught off guard, Aylin stood up, her mind having wandered a moment ago. Perhaps Mr. Garcia had noticed her distraction and called on her to refocus. But she was surprised to be singled out on the first day. Regardless, she knew she couldn't afford to falter now. Although her experience with the internet was limited, she decided to speak broadly. "Digital literature impacts traditional literary authority because the digital age is open, with literature involving the masses. In this respect, digital literature surpasses traditional literature," she began, aware she was speaking generally due to her limited understanding.

Mr. Garcia, an apparent traditionalist who favored classical texts, seemed unconvinced. She caught a hint of dissatisfaction on his face through his thick glasses.

"You truly believe digital literature surpasses traditional literature?" His underlying question seemed to challenge her preference for traditional literature.

Noticing his skepticism, Aylin elaborated, "I was merely comparing their reach. Digital literature has a low entry barrier, facing challenges in maintaining quality. Yet the accessibility it provides allows anyone to publish freely without editorial gatekeeping or needing a renowned pen name, which can lead to a mix of quality. Overall, while digital literature might be seen as fast food, traditional literature remains like a fine dining experience. As life accelerates, more people choose the fast food option. It's not hard to see why."

Mr. Garcia's expression softened, and Aylin's confidence began to return.

"What's your name?" Mr. Garcia asked.

"Aylin Scott."

He nodded, recognizing that despite her earlier distraction, her analysis wasn't entirely off base. "What books do you enjoy reading?"

"Books by Steinbeck, Austen, and Hemingway," Aylin listed, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.

"And digital novels?" Mr. Garcia prodded.

"Um..." Aylin faltered, realizing she had little familiarity with digital novels. It seemed this seasoned teacher was more current than she was.

Mr. Garcia smiled, "You might enjoy works like 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower' or 'Eleanor & Park.' They could broaden your perspective."

Aylin lowered her head in quiet reflection.

Mr. Garcia gave her a reassuring pat. "Impressive, keep up the good work!"

This unexpected acknowledgment from Mr. Garcia should have been a point of pride, but for her dorm mates that evening, it was hardly noteworthy. Instead, they were far more enthralled by Mr. Garcia's rumored private life with his much younger wife, nearly forty years his junior.

"Hey, I heard that once men hit a certain age, they can't keep up. But women in their thirties or forties have insatiable energy, right? How do they manage?"

"You think Mr. Garcia is having an affair?"

"Enough! Can we not meddle in others' affairs? Let's sleep!"

"Oh, by the way, Aylin, you made quite the impression today!" Milena acknowledged her for the first time.

Aylin smiled in the dark, about to respond when Milena mischievously added, "Just steer clear of that old lecherous teacher, okay?" she giggled.

Feeling as if she had swallowed something bitter, Aylin decided not to respond, pretending to fall asleep instead. Fortunately, Milena turned over and stayed quiet.

As her dorm mates began to snore, Aylin lay restless, unable to sleep. Milena's teasing had transported her back to a time she loathed, where she stood at the center of the world, exposed to all kinds of unwanted attention. Friendly, sympathetic, malicious, mocking, casual, or bored—it all centered on her, and she resented it. She was not naturally paranoid or self-important, but she had always cared too much about others' opinions. She despised being the focal point, resented the attention from everyone, including mentors, classmates, family, and strangers. This heightened sensitivity was a long-term effect of her depressive phase, a condition she called "heart prison." It was the root of her issue—a problem that refused to heal completely and would flare up with the slightest provocation. Deep down, Aylin longed for a door that would lead her to happiness, but she knew this college acceptance letter was not that door.

Unable to sleep, she was up early, wandering through the city streets as they stirred under the cold moonlight.

Aylin saw her grandmother's body around eight or nine in the morning the next day. The body was not taken to the funeral home but instead kept at her uncle's house. To prevent decomposition, the heating was turned off, and ice packs were arranged around Kayleigh Gardner's bed so Raiden, Aylin, and Milan could see her one last time.

Her face was pale, cold, and devoid of color. Aylin collapsed onto the bed beside her grandmother. Just days ago, her grandmother had been smiling and giving her advice, and now she lay there like this. Aylin couldn't cry. It wasn't that she wasn't hurting; it was that the pain was overwhelming, beyond anything she could have imagined.

Despite rarely visiting from London in the past decade, Aylin had spent nearly twenty years in close proximity to her grandmother. Kayleigh's unreasonable nature, her domineering ways, and her sharp tongue had given Aylin an early taste of life's harshness, teaching her how to navigate human complexities from a young age. They had shared a house, harboring mutual resentment that they used to get through the days. That resentment had persisted for so long that even when they could have lived harmoniously, Aylin kept her distance. But now, life had led them to this final goodbye, leaving much regret behind.

The mixture of love and hatred was a peculiar cocktail, both icy and fiery.

Emma Gibson gently helped her up. "Aylin, you need to accept it. Your grandmother passed peacefully."

Aylin nodded and turned to her brother, Salem. "Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me when Grandma got sick? At least I could have spent some time with her."

Salem remained silent, looking down. Dustin, Aylin's husband, stepped in to separate the siblings. "Aylin, they didn't want to worry you," he said, leading her back to the living room where Milan was sitting, lost in her thoughts. "Aunt Milena, we only found out last night. By then, they were already boarding the train, so we couldn't join them."

Milan sat silently, tears streaming down her face. Since Kayleigh Gardner had taken her last breath, Milan hadn't eaten or spoken a word. Her bond with her mother was deeper than any typical mother-daughter relationship. Milan had been old enough to understand the struggles when her father passed away. She knew her mother's hardships and loneliness, and she remembered how her mother had begged for mercy to feed their family, working alongside men in the fields, forgetting she was a woman.

Emma Gibson, holding a toddler, glanced at Milan and signaled to Dustin to follow her into a bedroom, Salem joining them.

"Dad and Uncle Raiden will be here by noon. Once they've seen her, we should call the funeral home to arrange the cremation," Emma suggested.

"But Mom..." Salem hesitated as he looked outside.

"We can't let her grieve indefinitely. We can't leave the body at home without heating. We might endanger the living," Emma's firmness seemed to echo Milan's resilience.

Aylin wiped her nose and nodded. "We'll follow Emma's lead. And we'll hold the funeral at the family home in the countryside. I'll head to the village to find Uncle Tadeo and the council to arrange everything. We can’t just wait for Dad and Uncle Salem to get here." Salem exchanged a look with Dustin, feeling a bit awkward. "Dustin, we know you just got married..."

Dustin playfully punched him on the shoulder, "No need for formalities."

Aylin suddenly remembered she now had a husband. She shot him a grateful look, noticing his tired eyes and feeling a pang of sympathy. "Salem, Dustin has been up all night preparing for the wedding. I’m worried he’s worn out. Let’s rest at your place for a bit."

Emma quickly took a key out of her pocket and handed it to Aylin. "Absolutely! You both need some rest."

"I have to get back to the village. There's so much to do."

"I'll go with you," Dustin insisted.

Given his insistence, Aylin relented. "Alright, we'll go to the village first, talk to Uncle Tadeo and Aunt Martha, and arrange everything. When Dad gets here, Salem, you can take Grandma for cremation."

On the day of Kayleigh Gardner's funeral, many people gathered from the village. Aside from the elderly, a few newly married women and young children, Aylin barely recognized any of them. To the villagers, the Gardner family was legendary—a grandmother once infamous for her shouting, a son notorious for a stint in prison, and a daughter-in-law who had worked in a nightclub. Yet, who could have imagined their granddaughter would attend an elite university and marry into an esteemed family?

Despite the whispers and gossip, one must never look down on others.

Raiden Gardner was weeping openly, a vulnerability he'd never shown before. Yes, he was grieving, but there was also a sense of losing a part of himself. His mother's overwhelming love had led to his idleness and previous family estrangement. In his youth, he had blamed her for not providing more for him. Now, with age came clarity about the greatness and selflessness of maternal love. But now, the opportunity to express that realization was gone.

Having been released from prison only six months ago, Raiden hadn't had time to prove himself

Living at her aunt's house felt like she was living a fairy-tale life for Aylin Scott. She had her own room with a full-length mirror wardrobe, a charming bedside lamp, and her cousin Salem chauffeured her to and from school. Her aunt always whipped up a variety of dinners. Everything seemed perfect, with no material want and a seemingly fulfilling life, yet Aylin couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease. The comfort and stability felt too good to be true, leaving her feeling more like a temporary guest than a family member.

Aylin often chastised herself for feeling insecure, but she couldn't help it. She couldn’t fully enjoy this comfortable lifestyle guilt-free, nor could she stop feeling thankful to her aunt and uncle. But this overwhelming gratitude only made her feel more alienated within the household.

She was overly sensitive. Every day after school, when she said, "I’m going home!" it felt awkward because while others proudly proclaimed, "My mom and dad are waiting for me," she was acutely aware that the three other members of the household could ask her to leave at any time. Aylin often pondered seemingly absurd questions: Do I truly have a home? Do I have a family? Am I loved by my family? Can one be truly happy without belonging?

She desperately wanted to rid herself of this unwarranted loneliness, to temporarily forget who she was, ignoring her longing for familial affection. But people can be selfish; the more they lack, the more they crave.

"Hey, what are you daydreaming about?" Milena Gibson tapped on Aylin's desk to snap her out of her thoughts.

Aylin looked up and smiled, "Oh...not much."

"Class is over!"

"Oh, really?" Aylin said, appearing absent-minded.

"Not going home yet? Hey, why don't you come to my place? My folks are out, just me and Aunt Lynn—it's going to be great!" Milena’s words painted a familiar scene for Aylin from their previous chats.

Aylin shook her head, "Nah, I think not today."

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun at my place!" Milena insisted, playfully tugging at Aylin's arm.

"Well...alright!" Aylin got up, lazily gathering her books.

Being used to solitude, Aylin found it hard to resist such persistent invitations. Truth be told, she liked Milena as a friend, despite their stark differences. Milena was joyful and self-assured, while Aylin was gloomy and insecure. Yet now, Milena had opened the door to friendship for her, and Aylin had no reason to turn down the invitation. Even if she couldn’t bask in Milena’s happiness, she hoped that Milena’s laughter could at least lift her spirits.

"Do your parents ever argue?" Aylin asked suddenly as they walked.

"All the time," Milena’s casual response surprised Aylin.

"Really? You don’t seem bothered by it..."

"Eh, what's there to be bothered about? They’re just being silly! Petty fights every day, bigger ones every few days, then they're back to being lovey-dovey!"

Aylin came to realize—what they called "arguing" was entirely different from her concept. She realized she lacked not just harmony and stability but even those playful, dissonant notes that were part of a happy family, something she knew nothing about.

The wind by the river was cool and soothing, and the view of the sunrise over the London Eye was breathtaking, like the ripples in Aylin’s heart. The cutting words Anya had hurled at her the night before faded to insignificance. Why should they matter? Girls liked to tease; why laugh when teasing others but not take it when it’s your turn? She reminded herself not to be petty.

Aylin stretched in the breeze, then turned to observe the old Bank of England building behind her. She loved these ancient European architectures far more than the modern skyscrapers across the river; their timeless charm was irresistible. Just like Professor Hughes' preference for classic literature—the more rooted something is, the more captivating it becomes. Aylin smiled to herself.

But in that brief moment, she saw a silhouette in the morning light—a dreamlike silhouette. With the backlighting, she couldn’t discern his features or age, only that his figure was tall and slender. He held a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, facing her direction.

Was he smiling at her? Why? Aylin frowned, sure that there were no familiar faces around here—she didn’t know any artists. She quickly turned and walked in the opposite direction.

"Hey, you!"

Was he calling her? Aylin hesitated, unsure whether to turn around.

"I'm a student at King's College too," said the silhouette, adding another clue.

Aylin turned to look at him again; now under the shadow of a skyscraper, she could see him clearly—a tall, handsome young man smiling warmly at her. "Come over, see if it looks like you."

Aylin hesitated, pointing at herself, "Are you talking to me?"

The young man smiled again, "Yeah, is there anyone else here?"

Aylin glanced at the embankment. Besides the lone river, indeed, there was no one else. She walked towards him, hardly daring to believe her eyes. On the canvas, she was rendered so lifelike, the morning sun over the Thames coloring her in rosy hues, the wind naturally tousling her hair.

Aylin was momentarily speechless, her face flushed red. Was it surprise or embarrassment?

He quietly observed her; he was undeniably handsome, yet his attractiveness couldn't hide the slight melancholy in his gaze. "Do you like it? You can have it if you do!"

Aylin shook her head vigorously, "No, thank you!" How could she accept something from a stranger, especially such a personal gift?

He seemed to understand her hesitation, smiling brightly, "No worries, painting it brought me a lot of joy. Besides, if you hadn't shown up here so punctually every day, this painting wouldn't exist!"

So Aylin didn’t refuse further, and as she accepted the painting, she noticed his signature, "Eren Murray?"

Eren nodded while packing his art supplies, "Got class in the morning? You should head back if you do!"

Aylin, surprised, blinked at him. He spoke as though he knew her well.

Eren scratched his head sheepishly, "Haha, I know you're a freshman in the English Department. I'm in the Art School. I happened to see you coming out of the Humanities Building yesterday... Oh, I forgot to introduce myself—I’m Eren Murray, a freshman in the Art School."

Aylin smiled shyly.

They chatted effortlessly on the bus ride, despite knowing little about each other. It was odd, but the boy was engaging, speaking with charm and eloquence. As they approached the university, Aylin felt a bit of reluctance. Would she see him again tomorrow?

When her dorm mates saw the painting in Aylin's hands, they swarmed around her.

"Wow! It looks just like you!"

"Eren Murray?! Aylin, spill it, have you been meeting this guy every morning?"

"Well, isn’t it obvious? How else could he paint you so well? Hey, Aylin, did you model for him nude or something?"

At that, Aylin blushed furiously, "Oh, stop it, Mia! We just met!"

"Oh really, just met and you already got a heartfelt gift! The guy seems pretty keen on you," Donna teased from the side.

Just then, the dorm door slammed shut—it was Anya, making a hasty exit.

"What's her issue?" Aylin asked, bewildered.

"Who knows, she's a mystery!" Mia replied dismissively.

The girls had started noticing Anya's peculiar behavior. Her competitive nature wasn’t the problem—sometimes she was overly enthusiastic, other times she was cold and distant, making her unpredictable.

Anya walked to the dorm hallway, crouching in a secluded corner to cry. She liked Eren, from the first day she laid eyes on him, but she never got the chance to talk to him with her parents around. During orientation, she would sneak glances at him, learning that he was Eren Murray from the Art School.

Naturally shy, especially being a top student, Anya never dared to make the first move. She would silently watch, always near him, saying nothing, doing nothing, hoping he would notice her and make the first move.

Her dream shattered; Aylin had beat her to it! She felt a mix of shock and disappointment, experiencing both envy and bitterness.

That was Aylin Scott—prettier, more accomplished. Even if Anya was bold enough to greet Eren first, it couldn’t overshadow Aylin's brilliance. Even old Professor Hughes was charmed by her!

After crying her heart out, Anya returned to the dorm with red eyes, the other girls still bombarding Aylin with questions. In the calm of university life, any ripple was magnified. Seeing Anya's red eyes, they all fell silent.

"What happened?" Aylin asked with concern, unable to connect her new acquaintance with Anya's state.

Anya nonchalantly shook her head, "Nothing, really. I got some dust in my eye out in the hallway, rubbed it a bit too hard."

Everyone could tell Anya was lying, but no one was inclined to call her out. Only Aylin watched her closely, "Are you okay?"

"It's fine! I'm alright!" Anya forced a smile. "Oh, by the way, Aylin, I heard you got yourself a boyfriend—congrats!" Her smile was clearly forced.

Aylin shook her head quickly, "No, really, it was just a chance meeting during morning practice; we barely spoke. You know, artists—they just paint whoever they see, it's nothing personal!"

Oh, they hadn’t started anything; maybe there was still hope! Anya’s expression immediately softened, hiding her relief by steering the conversation, "Oh, and when I passed by the bulletin board yesterday, I saw a call for essays—Aylin, your writing is fantastic, you should give it a try!"

"Really? If I have time, I’ll give it a shot." Aylin gathered her books for class, happy Anya had been so thoughtful. She naturally looped her arm with Anya's, "Let's go to Professor Chen's class. If we're late, it'll be brutal! You guys, hurry up too!"

On the way to class, they were quiet, each holding their own secrets.

The essay contest quickly shifted Aylin's focus away from thoughts of Eren. After all, she and the boy had nothing substantial between them, merely friendly banter. But it reminded her of Francis, who had once sparked special feelings over a similar writing piece. However, thinking of Francis now didn’t hurt like it used to.

When the past has turned to dust, what remains are the memories. And what of a new romance, a new hope? Would there be stories with the handsome artist boy? Without emotional surges, would life on campus become dull?

Aylin was startled by her own thoughts. Was she longing for love? She shouldn’t; how could she forget her past heartbreaks so quickly? She reminded herself.

For now, she’d set thoughts of romance aside and cherish the friendships around her instead. Would she find friendship here as she had with Milena? She yearned for a friend like Milena, someone so genuine, passionate, and open-hearted. Often, she compared her hometown friend Anya with Milena, wondering if Anya could become her next close confidante. Anya was passionate, loved to laugh, and often walked arm-in-arm with her on campus. But the key similarity was that Anya, too, could hold back tears and even laughter. Though she couldn’t understand why Anya was so off today, she recognized that same familiar bitterness.

Anya, like Aylin, was a proud girl. Indeed, pride—they both had it. But Aylin's pride was inherent, while Anya's was pressure from the outside world. With both being prideful, maybe they could become best friends!

Anya was diligent but not particularly bright. A simple poem would take her no less than thirty recitations to remember. Anya was relentless but deeply insecure, calling Professor Hughes a creep, yet she’d scour multiple bookstores just to find material to impress him in class.

Even though Anya was inconsistent, not as lively, nor as genuine as Milena, Aylin still considered her a friend. Both from the same town and both lacking vivid colors in their lives.

Life continues as the departed become a memory.

Though these truths are universal, accepting them can be difficult when they hit close to home. Such was the case with Raiden Gardner these days. He said little and ate even less. Every time he saw his mother's photograph, tears welled up. It wasn't that he couldn’t understand life and death; rather, he reflected on how hard his mother, Kayleigh Gardner, had lived. Her life was full of hardships, and even in passing, she faced struggles. Was this life’s burden or a debt from a previous existence?

Hanna was straightforward; one day she remarked to Salem, "Your mom used to nag because of menopause, now she's all mystical." Salem was upset, saying no daughter-in-law should mock her mother-in-law. Yet, he acknowledged his mother's grief had been excessive.

Salem discussed with Aylin and Dustin, considering a trip to lift his mother’s spirits.

Naturally, Aylin and Dustin agreed wholeheartedly.

When Kayleigh heard that her son and daughter-in-law were trying to send her away to London, she stomped her foot in anger, berating Salem, "What are you thinking, Salem? Your grandmother just passed, and you’re trying to ship me off to England. Do you find me annoying already? I’m not old and gray yet!"