Chapter 1
December always smelled the same.
Salt in the air. Something sweet drifting from the kitchen. The low hum of conversation that never quite settled, like the house itself was exhaling after a long year.
Alina leaned against the doorway, arms folded loosely, watching her mother fuss over a tray that didn’t need fussing over.
“You’ve rearranged those biscuits three times,” she said.
“They look better this way.”
“They looked identical the first time.”
Her mother gave her a look that suggested this conversation was beneath her and adjusted one anyway.
Alina smiled faintly, but her attention wasn’t really there.
It hovered somewhere else entirely.
Or rather - someone.
“You’re standing there like you’re waiting for something,” her mother added, too casually.
“I’m not.”
“Mhm.”
Alina pushed off the doorway. “When is he getting here?”
Her mother didn’t even try to hide the knowing smile this time. “You just said you weren’t waiting.”
“I’m not waiting. I’m asking.”
“James said early afternoon.”
Alina nodded, like that meant nothing.
Like the small, unnecessary awareness that had been sitting under her skin all morning wasn’t there at all.
She hadn’t seen him in almost a year.
Not properly.
There had been messages, the occasional call when he rang her father and ended up asking after her, his voice warm and familiar through the speaker.
"Still causing trouble, Alina?"
"Only when necessary, Uncle James."
It had always been easy like that.
Safe.
Contained.
A crush that never had to become anything more because it -couldn’t.
He was older. Established. Entirely out of reach in a way that made it almost… comfortable.
Like admiring something behind glass.
The sound of a car pulling up outside cut through the afternoon.
Her mother perked up immediately. “That’ll be him.”
Of course it was.
Alina hated the way her body reacted first, straightening slightly, smoothing her hair back in a gesture she pretended not to notice.
“Go open the door,” her mother said.
“I’m not the doorman.”
“You’re the closest.”
A beat.
Alina exhaled softly and moved anyway.
The walk to the front door felt longer than it should have.
Ridiculous.
It was just James.
Just...
She opened the door.
And there he was.
Leaning slightly to one side like he’d been about to knock but hadn’t gotten the chance yet. Sunglasses pushed back into his hair. Shirt sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms.
Familiar.
And not.
“Alina,” he said, like her name had been sitting ready.
Something in her chest shifted.
“Uncle James,” she replied automatically, though it came out a touch lighter than she intended.
His mouth curved.
There it was.
That smile.
Easy. Amused. Like he knew something you didn’t.
“You make it sound like I’ve aged twenty years,” he said.
“You have,” she returned. “I was being polite by not mentioning it.”
He laughed, low and unbothered, stepping past her as if he belonged there.
He did.
That was the thing.
He always had.
The house seemed to absorb him instantly. Her mother’s voice rising in greeting, her father appearing from somewhere deeper inside, the familiar rhythm snapping back into place like he’d never left.
Alina lingered a moment longer by the door before closing it.
Steady.
Normal.
This was normal.
It was only later, when the initial greetings had settled and everyone had migrated toward the sitting room, that the conversation shifted.
Subtly.
Her father leaned back in his chair. “So, how long are you staying this time?”
“A bit longer than usual,” James said.
Alina, halfway through reaching for her drink, paused.
“Oh?” her mother asked.
“Mm.” He glanced briefly in Alina’s direction before looking back at her father. “I’ve taken a position here.”
Something in the room stilled.
“What kind of position?” her father asked.
James took a slow sip of his drink, entirely too calm for someone about to alter the atmosphere.
“I’ll be lecturing.”
Alina blinked.
“Lecturing?” she echoed before she could stop herself.
His gaze flicked back to her, sharper now. Interested.
“Yes.”
“At… where?”
There was the smallest pause.
Just enough to matter.
Then...
“At your university.”
Silence.
Real silence this time.
The kind that lands fully before anyone knows what to do with it.
Alina let out a short breath that almost resembled a laugh. “You’re joking.”
“I don’t usually joke about employment.”
“You don’t usually teach either.”
“People change.”
Her grip tightened slightly around her glass.
“Since when?”
“Since recently.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.”
There it was again, that familiar back-and-forth, the ease of it slipping into place without effort.
But something underneath it felt… different.
Thinner.
Like the ground had shifted just enough that she couldn’t quite stand the same way anymore.
“You’re serious,” she said, more quietly this time.
“I am.”
Alina leaned back slowly, studying him in a way she hadn’t before.
Or maybe she had.
Just not like this.
Not with the knowledge that he wouldn’t disappear again in two months.
Not with the understanding that this, him, was about to become part of her everyday life.
“You realise,” she said carefully, “that I might end up in one of your classes.”
“I’m aware.”
“And?”
“And,” he replied, setting his glass down with quiet precision, “I expect you not to be a problem.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m never the problem.”
His gaze held hers.
Steady.
Unhurried.
“Mm,” he said softly. “We’ll see.”
Something flickered.
Quick. Unnamed.
Gone before she could catch it.
Later, she would think back to that moment.
The look.
The pause.
The way something had shifted without either of them acknowledging it.
At the time, it still felt like what it had always been.
Familiar.
Safe.
Uncomplicated.
But there are things that change long before anyone notices.
And sometimes the most dangerous ones are the ones that already feel like home.
