Chapter 1

Vaelora POV

The nightmares are starting to feel more real. More vivid. They disturb me in ways I can’t explain.

My alarm has been going off for the last five minutes, but I don’t bother to reach over and hit snooze.

It’s move-in day. My first year of college. And I’m not sure I’m as ready as I thought I was going to be.

It’s nearly five hours away—five hours from everything I’ve ever known. From my friends. From my family. From home.

The University of Maine in Presque Isle was the only college in the state that offered a homeopathy course. That’s how I justified it.

I’ll be majoring in the medical field—if I make it through college, anyway.

“Vaelora, we gotta get a move on, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m up,” I groan, dragging myself out of bed. It’s going to be a long day.

I find her downstairs at the breakfast bar, nibbling toast, already dressed in her paint-stained work jeans and a flannel rolled up to the elbows. She looks like she always does—steady. Capable. Safe.

“You ready for today?” she asks, humor dancing lightly in her tone.

I roll my eyes and huff. “Physically? Yes. I have everything packed. But mentally? I’m still processing. I mean—college? I barely survived high school.”

She chuckles and hands me a cup of coffee. “You did better than you realize. And you’re pursuing something you’re passionate about. You need to embrace it.”

She presses a kiss to the side of my head.

I sigh and take a swig of coffee. Embrace it. Got it.

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By the time we arrive around one in the afternoon, campus is buzzing.

Students reuniting. Parents hovering. Cars unloading half of people’s childhood bedrooms onto the sidewalks.

We haul my stuff up to the third floor, where I’m roomed with one other girl. The room is empty when we walk in—aside from her belongings neatly arranged on the right side.

Well. I guess the left side it is.

One bed. A desk and chair tucked beside it. A three-tier shelf built into the wall. A small closet at the foot of the bed.

Cozy.

We set everything up together. Mom helps me string fairy lights around my side of the room, carefully pressing the adhesive hooks into place like she’s hanging something fragile.

Hopefully my roommate doesn’t mind.

When everything is finally done, the room feels less like a blank box and more like something that might belong to me.

“I’ll walk you down,” I say.

The words feel heavier than they should.

————————————————————————————

Outside, the air feels different.

Thicker.

Quieter.

A sadness settles between us as we approach the car. I hear her sniffles before I see the tears.

She turns to me with a small, trembling smile.

And that’s it.

That’s when it hits.

We fall into each other at the same time. I bury my face in her neck and breathe her in—lavender and eucalyptus. Home. My hands grip the back of her flannel like if I hold tight enough, neither of us has to let go.

“I love you so much, my little Lori,” she whispers, her voice breaking on the last word.

My throat tightens. “I love you too, Mom,” I manage, but it comes out small. Fragile.

She pulls back just enough to cup my face, brushing a strand of my fiery orange hair behind my ear the way she has since I was little.

“You got this, Vaelora. I’m always just a phone call away. And if anything ever happens, you call me and I’ll be here. Do you understand me?”

I nod, because if I try to speak again I might shatter.

“And Lori,” she says softly, her thumb brushing under my eye before a tear can fall, “I am so proud of you.”

That does it.

A tear slips free despite my efforts.

She hugs me one last time—longer this time—and then forces herself to step away. I watch her get into the driver’s seat, wiping at her cheeks like she thinks I can’t see.

She gives me one final look.

Then she’s gone.

I stand there long after her car disappears down the road, fighting the ache in my chest.

Five hours suddenly feels like a lifetime.

Cheers to new beginnings.

I guess.