Fateful Departures and Unseen Crossings

The soft hum of an airplane taking off echoed through the vast, glass-paneled structure of Velmoria's international airport. The scent of brewed coffee and expensive cologne mingled with the sterile chill of air conditioning, yet for Lucian Drax, the only scent that registered was one that had haunted his memories for months—a fleeting trace of jasmine and something soft, almost nostalgic.

He halted mid-step.

His grip tightened on the strap of his duffel bag as he instinctively turned, his sharp eyes scanning the mass of travelers weaving through the departure terminals. For a split second, he was certain—certain that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. But before he could follow the faint scent that teased his senses, the wave of moving bodies swallowed its source.

A deep sigh left his lips, his heartbeat an uneven rhythm beneath his ribs. He ran a frustrated hand through his tousled dark locks, muttering under his breath.

Could it be… her?

Lucian had tried everything—pushing himself through relentless physical training, immersing himself in detective work, exhausting his mind and body—yet nothing had rid him of that one night's phantom. His two months in the suburban training grounds had been grueling, pushing him to the limits of endurance, but he welcomed the agony. It kept him from dwelling on the unknown girl who haunted his thoughts, the one whose presence had been stolen by the morning light.

And now, just when he thought he had gained some semblance of control, fate was mocking him again.

"Lucian?"

A deep, familiar voice called out, and Lucian turned, his thoughts momentarily disrupted. There, standing in crisp elegance despite the casual setting, was none other than Dorian Vale.

For a moment, a flood of memories surged through Lucian's mind—the quiet, dignified presence of the man who had once been his father's closest friend. The Vale estate had been a second home during his childhood, a place where his mother often met with the Vales for legal discussions. But that was before—before his parents' deaths severed the connection between the two families.

A flicker of recognition passed through Dorian's sharp eyes before a small, approving smile settled on his lips. "It's been years, Lucian."

Lucian inclined his head respectfully. "Mr. Vale."

Dorian let out a soft chuckle. "You used to call me 'Uncle Dorian' back then. How times have changed."

Lucian's lips twitched at the memory. "Indeed, they have."

Dorian took a moment to study him, his gaze assessing yet warm. "I heard about your training. I must say, your grandfather would have been proud to know you followed in his footsteps. The station you're joining—he built its reputation from the ground up."

Lucian gave a small nod of acknowledgment. "I hope to do justice to his legacy."

A comfortable silence settled between them before Dorian gestured toward the exit. "Come. Allow me to drop you home."

Lucian hesitated, his sharp instincts flickering with curiosity. Dorian Vale was not a man who acted on whims. If he was offering a ride, it was intentional.

Still, he found himself stepping into the luxurious black sedan, settling into the leather seats as Dorian instructed the driver to move.

The drive was filled with reminiscences—fragments of childhood visits, old memories of their families intertwined before tragedy severed them apart. They spoke of times past, of Lucian's mother and her sharp mind, of Dorian's admiration for the detective his father once was.

But beneath the pleasantries, Lucian sensed something else. There was a weighted silence in Dorian's words, a feeling that the man carried something unspoken. Yet, Lucian didn't press. He had learned long ago that patience unraveled more than interrogation ever could.

As the car slowed to a stop in front of his apartment complex, Lucian turned to Dorian. "Thank you for the ride."

Dorian nodded but before Lucian could step out, he spoke. "Lucian… if ever you need anything, you know where to find me."

Something about the way he said it made Lucian pause, but he merely nodded before stepping out and watching as the sedan disappeared down the dimly lit street.

Back at his apartment…

Lucian pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit space, exhaustion beginning to weigh on him. He tossed his duffel bag onto the couch and loosened his tie, heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water.

Then, he froze.

The scent hit him like a whisper from the past—jasmine and something delicate, lingering in the air as though someone had just walked through moments ago.

His brows furrowed, and he turned sharply, scanning the room. The windows were shut, the doors locked. He was alone.

And yet, the scent was unmistakable.

A slow exhale left his lips as he leaned against the counter, fingers pressing into the marble surface. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be.

But the ghosts of the past had a way of leaving traces, and Lucian was beginning to wonder if Velmoria was trying to tell him something.

Meanwhile, across the sky…

Saraphina Vale sat by the plane window, her hands resting over her abdomen as the city lights of Velmoria faded beneath the clouds. Her heart was heavy, yet steady in resolve. She had made her decision, one that would change everything.

Isolde, seated beside her, reached over and gave her hand a firm squeeze. "You're doing the right thing, Sera."

Saraphina offered a small smile, though her mind was still tangled in uncertainty. Her fingers traced over her watchless wrist, remembering the last time she had worn it, the night she had left it behind as a form of payment to a man whose face she never saw.

The memory made her stomach tighten—not in regret, but in something more complicated. A part of her hated herself for not forgetting that night. The other part…

The other part ached for something she did not understand.

She let out a slow breath, her eyes wandering to the darkened sky beyond the window. The further they flew from Velmoria, the more she should have felt free. But instead, there was a strange pull, a sense that the city had not completely let her go.

As if a part of her was still there.

As if something—or someone—was still waiting.

Isolde watched her closely before squeezing her hand again. "You won't be alone. I'll be with you every step of the way."

Saraphina turned to her, gratitude softening her features. When Isolde decided to continue her education in the same country, Saraphina knew she would never be alone in this journey. With Isolde by her side, she felt a small sense of comfort in the uncertainty ahead.

As the plane cut through the clouds, she closed her eyes, whispering a silent promise to herself. She would return stronger. She would make a name for herself. And perhaps, just perhaps, she would find the missing pieces of the night that changed everything.