Vivienne and Noah

Prologue

Vivienne

I always thought it would feel like magic.

Not the loud kind. Not lightning or fireworks or anything that would draw a crowd.

Something quieter.

Something meant just for me.

I turn eighteen on a Thursday.

It starts like every other day in our house. Me waking up before my alarm, already listening. Waiting to see what kind of morning it's going to be. Quiet kitchen. Half empty bottle on the counter. My mom asleep on the couch, one arm hanging off the edge like she just drifted there and never made it to bed.

I stand there for a second, watching her breathe.

She looks peaceful like this.

You'd never know.

I grab a blanket and drape it over her, careful not to wake her. Then I clean up the kitchen a little. Rinse the glass. Throw away the napkin. Straighten things out like I always do.

By the time she stirs, I already have my shoes on.

"Happy birthday, baby," she says, her voice soft and rough at the same time. She pulls me into a quick hug that smells like perfume trying to cover something else "I left you something."

There's a cupcake on the counter.

Store bought. Pink frosting. A candle pressed in at an angle like it wouldn't stand up straight.

It makes something warm twist in my chest anyway.

"Thanks, Mom," I say, smiling like I always do.

Because I love her.

Because she loves me.

Even if it doesn't always look the way it's supposed to.

School feels the same as always. Lockers slamming. Laughter in the halls. The low hum of voices and footsteps and everything familiar.

But underneath it all, there's something else.

A quiet, restless flutter in my chest.

I keep pressing my fingers to the inside of my wrist as I walk, like I can feel it there. Like something is building just beneath my skin.

Eighteen means something.

Everyone says it does.

It means possibility.

It means...maybe today.

My friends used to joke about it. The bond. The way it snaps into place the second you meet them. Like something invisible finally locking into place.

Like finding the missing piece of yourself.

I've always half believed it wouldn't happen to me.
Not like that.

Not all at once.

But still, I hope.

By the time the last bell is about to ring, I'm running late. My shoes squeak against the polished floor as I hurry down the quieter hallway near the administrative offices. It's always emptier here.

Calmer.

Safer.

I slow when I turn the corner.

And then I stop.

There's someone standing near the classroom door at the end of the hall.

Not a student.

Sebastian Bennett. Older. Early twenties, maybe. Dark hair, neat. Button down shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms. There's something about him that feels... put together. Controlled.