Chapter 16

(Evelyn's POV)

The plane landed with an alarming jolt that made my stomach drop. I'd been half-asleep, when it made its descent.

Around me, people started grabbing their bags, turning on phones to call their loved ones, while some complained about the flight. 

All of these were normal things, but I sat still, trying to remember how to be normal.

The sound system came up and aBritish accent announced our arrival at Heathrow. The temperature outside was twelve degrees Celsius, and local time was six in the morning.

That seemed to wake me from my hazy thoughts as I realized that I was really in London. 

My legs felt shaky when I stood up. I'd only brought one suitcase, something easy enough to handle by myself. The businessman next to me didn't offer to help and I was glad. I didn't want to talk to anyone.

The walk through the terminal felt endless. Signs in English pointed in every direction, and people rushed past speaking languages I couldn't identify. Everything just smelled like recycled air and coffee.

At customs, the line moved slowly. I kept my sunglasses on even though we were indoors. My hands wouldn't stop shaking so I shoved them in my jacket pockets.

"Next."

I stepped up to the counter and the customs officer, a woman in her forties, attended to me.

"Passport."

I handed it over, my fingers sweating.

She opened it, glanced at the photo, then at me. "Purpose of visit?"

My mouth went dry. What was I supposed to say? Running from my cheating ex-husband? Erasing myself from existence?

"Relocation." The word came out clean. "Starting over."

She looked at me for a second then she stamped the passport and slid it back across the counter.

"Welcome to London, Ms. Blackwood."

Yeah, Ms. Blackwood.

I took the passport and stared at the name printed inside. Lena Blackwood. It looked wrong, like a typo someone had forgotten to correct.

But I walked away, pulling my suitcase behind me. I found a quiet corner near some vending machines and just stood there.

"Lena," I whispered to myself. "I'm Lena now."

Saying it out loud didn't make it feel any more real.

People kept hurrying past me. A family with three kids arguing about something, a couple holding hands and laughing, and an old man shuffling slowly with a cane.

Everyone seemed to have somewhere to be. Everyone knew where they were going. But I didn't.

That's when I felt it, the creeping sensation that someone was watching me.

I turned around slowly, scanning the crowd. There were travelers everywhere, but none of them were looking my way. I was just being paranoid.

Except that around twenty feet away, a man in a dark coat had his phone out like he was texting, but something about the way he stood made my skin crawl. 

Was he looking at me?

I didn't wait for the answer but immediately grabbed my suitcase and started walking in the opposite direction. And when I glanced back, the man was gone.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Was he from Julian? Had he followed me here?

I ducked into the nearest restroom and locked myself in a stall. I sat down on the closed toilet lid and tried to breathe normally.

My phone was in my purse and I pulled it out with shaking hands. There were twenty voicemails, all from numbers I didn't recognize.

Julian had been the one calling, no doubt. Using different phones, different numbers, and anything to get through to me. Despite blocking his main number, he'd found ways around it.

I deleted every voicemail without listening, blocked the numbers one by one until my thumb hurt from pressing the screen. Then I turned the phone off completely.

When I finally came out of the bathroom, I felt like I might throw up. The airport was too loud, and I needed to get out of here.

Outside, the morning air was cold and wet with dew. It looked like it would rain, but hadn't started yet. I looked around for the taxi queue.

"Ms. Blackwood?"

I quickly spun around. A man in a black suit stood a few feet away, holding a sign with my new name on it.

"I didn't order a car."

"Courtesy of Greystone Legal Services, ma'am. Mr. Creighton arranged it."

Again, another reason to be suspicious and ask questions about where all these favours were coming from. But I was so tired, and the thought of figuring out London's taxi system made me want to cry.

"Okay."

He took my suitcase and led me to a black sedan parked at the corner. He opened the back door for me and I got in.

The drive was straightforward and the driver didn't try to make conversation, which I appreciated.

London passed by the window as the car sped on. 

There were so many buildings I didn't recognize and street names I couldn't pronounce. Red phone booths and black cabs everywhere, and people walking with umbrellas even though it wasn't raining yet.

It was strange and familiar at the same time. But nothing like home. Not that I had a home anymore.

We finally pulled up in front of a building in what the driver said was South Kensington. It was a beige-colored building with black iron railings, window boxes and a nice flower bedding.

He handed me the keys. "The apartment is fully furnished and the rent is paid for six months. Mr. Creighton will be in touch."

"Wait." I fumbled with my purse. "How much do I owe for all this?"

"It's been handled, ma'am."

"By who?"

He just smiled politely and got back in the car.

I stood on the sidewalk watching him drive away, the keys still in my hand.

The apartment was on the third floor, and I took the stairs because the elevator looked too small and I couldn't handle being in another enclosed space right now.

When I unlocked the door and stepped inside, I had to stop and catch my breath.

It was beautiful. Not fancy but modestly comfortable. A living room with a nice couch. A kitchen with everything anyone would need.

The windows had a nice view as they overlooked a park with trees and a pond with ducks.

On the kitchen counter sat a basket. There were tea bags, biscuits in a tin, a jar of honey and numerous other items I didn't have the strength to identify. There was a card tucked into the side too.

I picked it up warily.

“Welcome to your new beginning. You deserve this. - A Friend”

I read it three times, and still couldn't process it. Who was this friend? Mr. Creighton didn't seem like the type to write notes about new beginnings, I don't think it's within his job description either. So who?

When I couldn't think up an answer, I set the card down and walked through the apartment. One bedroom, one bathroom. All simple, warm and clean. Nothing like the apartment I'd shared with Julian, with its expensive furniture and exaggerated art pieces.

This place felt lived in even though no one had lived here yet. My suitcase still sat by the door where I'd left it. I should unpack and start settling in.

Instead, I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.

My brown hair needed washing and there were hideous dark circles under my eyes. The same face I'd had yesterday and the day before that and seven years before that.

But the passport in my purse said Lena Blackwood. I tried it out loud again. "Hi, I'm Lena. Lena Blackwood."

It sounded like I was lying, and someone would call me out any second. But no one did. It was just me and my reflection and a name that didn't fit yet.

I went back to the living room and sat on the couch. The apartment was quiet except for sounds from outside—cars passing, someone laughing, a dog barking somewhere far away.

I'd been holding it together since I left the hotel two days ago. 

But sitting there alone, finally safe, and away from Julian and Serena and everything I'd known for seven years, I broke down.

The sobs came hard and fast. I curled up on the couch and cried until my throat hurt. For the woman I used to be before I learned that love wasn't always enough. I cried because I was free and freedom was terrifying.

Who was I without Julian? Who was I without the routine of being his wife? Who was I without book club and company dinners?

Who was Lena Blackwood?

I didn't know…