Chapter seven

Christina’s POV

“Chris, have you reached?” Mom’s voice was warm, but I could hear the faint tremor of worry.

“Yes, Mom. The plane just landed,” I said, trying to sound less exhausted than I felt.

“The house feels so empty without you. Carter misses you too. It’s not even been a day and we’re both already lost without you.”

I smiled, my chest tightening. “Same here, Mom.”

“I’ve texted you my friend’s son’s number—Asher. Call him when you step out of the airport.”

A notification blinked at the top of my screen. Asher. Just a capital letter A for his profile picture—no face, no clue.

After eight long hours in the air, I finally touched down in Auckland—half a world away from my hometown. The moment I stepped into the terminal, the foreign air felt heavier, lonelier.

Bags collected, I stepped out of the airport and dialed Asher twice. No answer.

Great. Perfect start.

I was about to book a hotel when I spotted it—my name written in bold, block letters on a sign.

A tall, broad-shouldered guy stood holding it, the setting sun catching in his dark hair.

“Asher?” I asked.

“Christina?” His eyes lit up like I’d just stepped out of a memory. “Wow… you haven’t changed a bit.”

Before I could respond, he took my suitcase like it weighed nothing and started loading it into his sleek black car.

He seemed a bit shy, but overall, he was really cute.

“I thought you wouldn’t show up,” I said. 

“How could I not? We’re childhood friends, after all,” he said with a laugh.

I got into his car. It seemed he already knew me, but I didn't. 

“Childhood friends?”

“Yeah…”

He fastened his seatbelt and handed me a photo. It was really a picture of us from childhood, together. I could see the features of his face hadn't changed. He still had that baby face.

“I had no idea I’d even been to Auckland before,” I murmured.

He smiled knowingly, then started the car.

We pulled up to a sprawling Victorian-style house, the kind that whispers old money. Ornate gates, ivy crawling up cream walls, a stone sculpture watching over the front lawn.

Inside, Mrs. Wellington swept toward me with open arms.

“Darling!” she said, crushing me in a hug that smelled faintly of roses. “It’s been years. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

“Thank you, Auntie,” I said, smiling.

She was like a blonde version of my mom—same height, same graceful posture, even the same warm-but-commanding tone.

“Good evening, dear,” Mr. Wellington greeted, extending a firm handshake.

When Mom first suggested I stay with them for a week, I’d hesitated. I’d wanted to find a hostel and figure things out on my own. But she insisted. And now, somehow, it didn’t feel as awkward as I’d imagined.

At dinner, the conversation flowed easily. Mr. Wellington asked, “What are you studying?”

“Finance. Final year,” I said. 

His brows shot up. “Finance? For a girl? That’s… impressive.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah. My class hardly had three girls for major." I said.

"I must say, you're intelligent." He appreciated. 

The truth was, I never liked finance. But I still chose it as major. Just because of him. Just to stay close to him.

Hunter

I accepted things I hated, just because he loved them. Not only Finance, but football, pinapple pizza...

“Asher’s studying finance too,” Mrs. Wellington said brightly. I jumped out of my thought. “Same class, even! You two can go together.”

Asher, ever the quiet one, helped his mom serve food with the focus of a saint. He was the type who followed rules without complaint—nothing like the dominant, rebellious boy I used to know.

“Look at Asher,” Shelly teased. “He’s never helped me like this before.”

“Mom…” He blushed, and she mussed his hair like he was still a kid.

“Want me to show you your room?” Asher asked once dinner was over.

I nodded and followed him upstairs. He stopped in front of a large guest room. “If you want a bigger one, there’s another down the hall.”

“This is fine,” I said.

“Goodnight.”

When the door clicked shut behind him, the quiet hit me like a wave. For the first time, I truly felt how far I’d come—from home, from Mom… from him.

I picked up my phone. My thumb hovered for a second over Hunter’s contact. Then, with a deep breath, I pressed Block.

Something I could never do until I got here.