Chapter 18 – The Letter That Shouldn’t Have Come

It was just a letter.

Just a thin envelope, slightly crumpled at the edges, with her name scrawled across it in a handwriting she hadn't seen in months.

But it might as well have been a bomb.

Eleanor stared at it for a long time before picking it up. The parchment felt too light in her hands, too fragile to hold the weight of everything it carried.

She knew who it was from before she even opened it.

Her father.

She sat down slowly, the wooden chair creaking beneath her, and unfolded the letter with careful fingers.

Eleanor,

It has been long enough.

You've had your time. Your… freedom. Whatever it is you've been chasing. I won't pretend to understand.

But it's time to come home.

There are things that need to be discussed. Responsibilities that you cannot keep running from. We will expect you in London by the end of the month.

Do not make this difficult.

Father.

The words pressed against her skin like iron.

She read the letter twice.

Then a third time.

Then she folded it neatly, placed it back into the envelope, and set it on the table as if it weren't the most dangerous thing in the room.

Callum found her like that, sitting still, staring at the letter with something unreadable in her expression.

"What is it?" he asked.

Eleanor didn't look at him. "A reminder."

"Of what?"

She inhaled. The air felt thick. "That I don't belong here."

Callum was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he sat down across from her, tapping a finger against the envelope. "That's not true."

Eleanor forced a small, hollow smile. "It doesn't matter if it's true."

Because the letter was right about one thing.

She couldn't run forever.