ENGLISH VERSION The Way I ve Always Loved You

The train doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and for a moment, Elara Vance couldn't move. The city stretched out before her-loud, unfamiliar, alive in a way that felt almost hostile. Skyscrapers loomed, headlights flashed against damp pavement, and the cold air carried the scent of rain and gasoline. She gripped the strap of her duffel bag, her pulse hammering.

This is it. A fresh start. A new version of herself.

She stepped onto the platform, letting the crowd swallow her. Her boots scuffed against the tile, her breath sharp in her lungs. She had been waiting for this moment for *months*, but now that it was here, she felt strangely weightless-like a ghost slipping between bodies.

Elara's fingers twitched toward her pocket, where her phone vibrated with a message. Not from anyone important, just an automated update from the leasing office of her new dorm. She had made sure of that-cleared out her inbox, deleted every old thread, blocked every number that could reach through time and drag her back. Especially his. But ghosts had a way of finding cracks to slip through. She exhaled sharply, pushing forward into the neon-lit streets.

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The City Doesn't Know Me Yet

By the time she reached her dorm, her shoulders ached from carrying her bag, and her hoodie was damp from the misty drizzle coating the streets. The building was old, brick and ivy-covered, with high arched windows that reflected the glow of streetlights. Nothing like home.That was the point.

Elara checked in, grabbed her key, and climbed the narrow staircase to the third floor. The hallway smelled like vanilla candles and paint thinner. Room 317. Inside, her new roommate was already sprawled across the bed, scrolling through her phone. "You're late," the girl said without looking up. Elara blinked. "What?"

"I was waiting to see if I needed to call the authorities," she deadpanned, finally glancing over.

Elara almost smiled. Almost.

The girl sat up, tucking her legs beneath her. Dark curls framed a sharp-featured face, eyes assessing. Mia Harper, she said. Your new partner in crime.

"Elara," she replied, closing the door behind her.

Mia's gaze flicked over her. "You look like someone who just fled a murder scene."

Elara snorted. "Not quite."

"Mm." Mia didn't look convinced.

Elara turned away, setting her bag down. She wasn't sure what people saw when they looked at her anymore. The girl she used to be-Atlas's Elara-was gone. She had made sure of that. She pulled off her hoodie, revealing the black tank top beneath. The mirror across the room caught her reflection, and she barely recognized herself. She had cut her hair short, dyed it a cooler shade, traded pastel dresses for neutral tones and leather jackets. She didn't wear the necklace Atlas had given her. He wouldn't even know me now.

Mia studied her. "You running from something?" Elara hesitated. Then she shrugged. "Aren't we all?" Mia grinned. "Fair enough."

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