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Chapter 11
Everything felt unfamiliar—and somehow, that was the best part.
Isla stepped out of the terminal, taking in the foreign skyline, the blend of languages around her, the way strangers met her eyes with easy, casual kindness.
It wasn’t home. Not even close.
But for once, she didn’t feel scared.
She felt… free.
Dragging her suitcase behind her, she followed the pin the
by Mg Mandlord had sent her and
The landlady, a sunny woman with a halo of blonde curls,
made
her way
rundown of house rules before disappearing down the str
already waiting at the like a whirlwind.
curb. She handed Isla the keys
toward her new apartment building.
and gave a quick
ག། ད་ད།ཆེར་དར་ད་ར་ར་ར་དུ་ཚད་འདང་ངད་ དང་
By the time Isla realized she hadn’t even said goodbye, the woman was long gone.
As she climbed the stairs, she paused for a second. She could’ve sworn she saw someone familiar turn the corner up ahead–but the hallway was empty.
Maybe she was just tired.
The apartment wasn’t big, but it had everything she needed. A cozy bedroom with a small balcony where sunlight spilled through gauzy curtains.
A tidy kitchen tucked into the corner, clean and unused.
She smiled.
She’d always cooked for herself–out of necessity, not joy. Back home, no one cared whether she ate. She learned early on to fend for herself. Now, with a real kitchen and no one hovering, it felt like a tiny, quiet victory.
She gave the apartment a quick wipe–downi, unpacked her suitcase, folded her clothes neatly into the closet, and arranged her breakables with gentle care.
By the time she collapsed onto the bed, the exhaustion from the plane hit her like a brick.
Sleep came fast.
When she finally woke, the sun was already past its peak. Her muscles ached from the long trip, and her brain was still playing catch–up.
It took her a full minute to remember–she was in Koorana.
She’d done it.
She was really here.
It was early summer in Koorana. Warm winds and endless sun.
She threw on a light sundress and stepped outside, letting the breeze chase through her hair. The moment she turned the corner, a delicious smell caught her attention.
Her feet followed instinctively.
The restaurant had a steakhouse vibe, with rich wood tables and a sizzling grill behind glass. She ordered a specialty steak, swapping out the cheese wedges for plain grilled potatoes.
One bite–and she was hooked.
Tender, smoky, seared to perfection. Maybe things really were looking up.
Chapter 11
GoodShort
11.58
She was practically glowing by the time she got to pay. Only… her wallet wasn’t in her bag.
She froze.
She’d left both her cash and cards in the jeans she wore earlier.
Panic pricked her spine–until someone stepped up beside her and casually handed the cashier a gold membership card.
“I’ve got it,” the man said.
She turned and recognized him instantly.
The same guy from the plane. The one who’d given her his blanket without hesitation.
Now that he wasn’t wearing a mask, she could finally see his face.
Sharp bone structure, strong jaw, those strangely intense eyes.
“Th–thank you,” she stammered.
He gave her a small smile.
“How can I pay you back?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, holding up the card. “It’s a prepaid dining Pass.”
“That’s kind, but I’d still like to return the favor.”
He paused, just for a second, then tilted his head.
“Alright. Buy me ice cream next time,” he said. “That little shop under your building should do.”
She blinked.
So she hadn’t imagined it the other day. He had been the one she saw earlier in the hallway.
“Okay,” she said, smiling. “Next time, ice creamn’s on me.”
He walked away before she could ask his name.
And only then did she realize–she hadn’t even gotten a chance to thank him properly. Not really.
She stood there a little longer, heart strangely light, then headed back home.
AR
Sign into t
Once she had her wallet, she made a quick grocery run and filled the fridge with fresh produce, eggs, and simple staples. The moment she shut the fridge, a strange feeling swept through her–something warm, and unfamiliar.
Security.
Stability.
Like maybe, just maybe, she could start over here.
Her phone buzzed, dragging her out of the moment.
It was an email.
From Arabella
Photos. Attached.
