Page 4 of Hannah.

Both of us hesitate, the moment becoming heavy and laden with emotion. I have another entire day with her, and I don’t want to ruin it by making her uncomfortable, so I take pity on her and gently tease her back. “And it's not just because you're...the little sister of someone I'm not allowed to mention.”

Hannah crosses her arms, waiting for me to continue.

“Whatever. My point is, Hannah, it’s been nice getting to know you.”

She gives me a shy smile, and my heart swells.

“I'm not just saying that. I mean it.”

“Fantastic,” she says, quickly linking her arm with mine again. “But you said something about the food tents….”

We continue strolling around, and the tantalizing aroma of freshly cooked food that fills the air reaches us as we make it to the tents. The lively chatter of the crowd surrounds us, creating a vibrant atmosphere. It’s the perfect atmosphere for a date, actually…but this isn’t one. I glance at Hannah, her eyes alight with curiosity, as we peruse the array of culinary options.

“Well, what do you fancy, Miss?” I ask, my tone light. “A taste of English tradition, perhaps?”

She chuckles, her eyes scanning the options. “I'm feeling adventurous today. How about some fish and chips?”

“Excellent choice,” I reply, leading her to a bustling food stall. “Even if it is the furthest thing from adventurous.” We place our order and soon find ourselves with plates of golden-brown fish and crispy fries. Our playful banter continues as we search for a secluded spot to eat. We don’t get close to the vulnerability we skirted the edge of earlier, but that’s okay. Being with her is nice, even if things stay surface-level.

We settle under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, the dappled sunlight creating a pleasant ambiance around us. The first bite of the fish is heavenly, and I can't help but let out a contented sigh. Hannah joins me, her expression mirroring my own satisfaction.

“This is amazing,” she says between bites. “I never knew fish and chips could be this delicious.”

I nod in agreement, savoring the flavors. “One thing we got right.”

As we enjoy our meal, I notice a male figure standing at a distance, watching us intently. Dressed in a long coat and sunglasses, he seems out of place compared to our cheerful surroundings. My curiosity is piqued, and I steal glances in his direction, trying to discern his identity. Is he a stranger, a passerby, or someone with intent?

I can't shake off the feeling of unease that settles in my stomach. Is this person connected to the mysterious Amelia? Or could he be a staff member of Hannah’s family, sent by her parents to keep an eye on us and ensure I don't overstep the boundaries of friendship with their precious daughter? That idea is almost funny, but the man hovers long enough that there isn’t any denying that we are the object of his attention.

Despite my growing concern, I choose not to mention the observer to Hannah. I don't want to spoil the day with unnecessary worries. Instead, I focus on our conversation, laughter, and the shared moments that make this day unforgettable.

Eventually, the mysterious man turns away and disappears into the crowd. I heave a sigh of relief, and my attention returns to Hannah.

“How is your progress on your master’s degree? Almost done?” she asks out of nowhere, her voice filled with genuine interest.

I take a sip of my drink, savoring it before replying, “It’s doing great. I’ll be done this year.” Then, thinking of teasing her some more, I ask, “Do you remember what I’m studying?”

She nods, dipping a chip into a paper cup of ketchup before popping it into her mouth. “Heritage Studies at Cambridge.” My brows rise in astonishment; I wasn’t expecting her to actually remember. Before I can comment, she says something that makes me pause. “I want to go to Cambridge too when I finish high school.”

For a split second, my heart flutters with a feeling I shouldn’t have: hope. I try not to let the news affect me, joking about it instead. “It’s good to know you intend on going to college.” I bump my feet into hers, causing her to avert my gaze. “But I can’t help but notice you want to study at the same college that I’m at…what a strange coincidence.”

When she looks back at me, a mischievous glint appears in her eyes. “Maybe I want to go just to cause you trouble. Be an annoying little sycophant. What do you have to say to that?”

I arch an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “You? Troublesome? I don’t think so.”

She giggles her laughter like a melody that brightens the surroundings. “Well, I've heard it's a great place for learning. Plus, I already know the topic I want to study there.”

“And what might that be?”

“History of Art.” Her excitement at the prospect spills over her entire face. “I've always been intrigued by the world of art and collectibles. The history and value behind each piece… that sort of thing.”

I remember her strange, perfectly organized cache of treasures that she showed me at home. I had thought it was a weird hobby for someone from Hannah’s family, but it charmed me, just as her excitement does now. “Hence your collection of odd things?”

She grins, but there’s something reserved about it. “Exactly. I find beauty in the unconventional.”

Wiping my fingers on a napkin, I can’t help but say, “And here I thought you were just trying to decorate your room with eccentricity to spite your parents.”

“Oh, sure. But it serves that purpose too, of course.” She wiggles her fingers before her as she speaks, emphasizing her words. “There's a deeper connection, a fascination with the narratives behind each item. All the little stories that want to be told.”

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