Page 5 of Hannah.

“It's a rare gift, Hannah. You look beneath the surface. Most people aren’t like that.”

Her smile softens, and a vulnerable look shines in her eyes. “Thanks. You’re the only person I’ve ever shown my collection.Except for Elise more recently, but she’s so nosy I’m sure she’d have found out on her own.”

The mention of her sister touches something within me, a mixture of emotions I can't quite place. It’s not nostalgia, but I’m afraid it’s the knowledge that I liked Elise as a person, but I’m interested in Hannah differently. In this moment, I feel a connection, not just with Hannah but with the trust she has placed in me. The world around us seems to fade as I realize the depth our bond could take on if we continue seeing each other like this. Hannah already feels like a dear friend to me. Gosh…she’s Elise’s sister. She’s only sixteen.

Again, I look at her and feel like I’m falling. It doesn’t hurt that she’s beautiful and surely be even more so in a few years. Hannah’s beauty is darker, more mysterious, and enigmatic than her sister's, but when she smiles, she lights up like the moon at its fullest.

I have to get a hold of myself. Even if she weren’t so young, I have to return to Cambridge after the show, and Hannah to Amsterdam. She’ll be spending time at school with peers her age, and there will inevitably be at least one boy who will see how special she is. The idea makes me want to grit my teeth, but I settle for taking an oversized bite of fish after covering it with malt vinegar.

Hannah watches me, her eyes squinting slightly. “Johan, are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay. You’re gorgeous and fascinating; I want to kiss you until you can’t breathe. And there is no damn way in the world that I can have you. “Yes, I’m fine. Let’s get back to the show.”

The next evening, the sun dips low, painting the sky in warm orange and deep purple hues as the day wanes. We stand on the airport tarmac, charged energy passing through the air between us. Hannah’s eyes mirror the twilight, and there is something in her gaze that I just can’t read—some secret desire that she isn’t putting a name to.

I don’t want to let her go, even if that thought is ridiculous. The past two days have flown by so fast that I didn’t even register how painful it would be to watch her leave, and now the hurt of it is slapping me in the face. I’m terrible at goodbyes, but it’s not like I can walk away without giving her one. Words elude me, but as I remember our conversation about college, I muster the sincerity to say, “If you want to get in at Cambridge, I’ll help you out.”

Her lips twist into a smile different from usual, lighting up her face. “I should be okay, but thanks.”

A pause lingers, heavy with unspoken sentiments. Should we hug? Should we kiss? The air hums with anticipation, a charged silence between us. Hannah steps closer, her lips brushing my cheek in a soft, tender kiss. “I enjoyed the show. It was fun.” Her words carry a depth that tugs at my heart.

A fleeting smile graces my lips, and my chest constricts with the bittersweet sting of goodbye. “I'm glad you did,” I murmur, my voice barely audible. “Safe travels, Hannah. I hope to see you soon.”

She turns away, her figure silhouetted against the vibrant sky as she boards the plane.

I stand there, rooted, her kiss lingering on my cheek, the feeling of it burning into my brain. The sun sinks beneath thehorizon, and I'm left with a sense of longing. Hannah has etched her presence deep within me, and as the plane door shuts, I'm filled with yearning…but also hope. Hope that our paths will cross again, weaving our lives together somehow.

Hands in my pockets, I walk back to the waiting vehicle. After getting inside, the driver closes the door behind me with a soft thud, and I find myself lost in thought once more. I look out the window, hearing the plane's engines roaring to life, drowning out the world, and the aircraft starts its journey, carrying her away from me.

My fingers graze the smooth surface of my phone, thoughts of Hannah swirling in my mind. She is special, so incredibly special. How she makes me feel, the ease with which laughter flows when she's near—it's a sensation I can't quite describe. I contemplate pouring my emotions into a text, confessing how much I treasured those fleeting moments together.

You are really special, Hannah. I enjoyed spending those two days with you. I hope we can see each other again soon. Have a safe flight. X, I type the text, my thumb hovering over the send button. There’s a vulnerability in those words, a raw honesty that I hesitate to reveal.

She’s too young for you. Get it through your dense head.

The harsh reality holds me back. Her age, both of our locations, Elise being her sister…damn. It’s too much. Giving her false hope would be cruel, and if someone else reads the text, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do, so I delete it and opt for something simpler:Have a safe flight!

1

Hannah

I pressmy forehead against the cool window glass as the car glides effortlessly down the highway, leaving Amsterdam Airport behind. My gaze follows the Dutch countryside unfurling beneath the twilight sky as my thoughts wander back to the past few days spent in England with Johan.

That British man, with his easy smile and his laugh, which seemed to echo the very thrill of the show, has left a vivid imprint on my mind. There’s a flutter in my stomach just remembering the way he explained each horse's lineage, the strategies behind each event, his voice animated with passion. Being with him was like stepping into a world where every moment is brimming with life, and I can't help but be smitten. He's older, yes, but there's a wisdom and a warmth to him that draws me in, despite Oma’s warnings.

Speaking of which, the car turns onto a narrower road, the trees along the lane forming a green tunnel that seems to lead straight to the heart of her estate. The closer we get, the heavier the music box and letter in my bag feel—like they're ladenwith the weight of untold family stories. It's strange to think that amidst the excitement of the show, these small items were silently carrying the weight of hidden truths.

As we pass through the estate’s ornate iron gates, the car follows a winding drive that snakes through the meticulously kept grounds. Ancient trees stand guard along the path, their branches stretching skyward, casting long shadows that crisscross over the gravel. It feels like traveling through a corridor of time, each meter bringing me closer to the heart of my family’s history.

Finally, the estate itself comes into view, its majestic facade rising grandly at the end of the drive. The car slows to a stop at the roundabout before the main entrance, where the imposing front steps lead up to the towering double doors. Here, Stuart is waiting, as stoic and composed as ever, his figure remaining a familiar beacon in the midst of all the stately grandeur.

The driver smoothly opens the door for me. Stepping out, I'm immediately enveloped by the crisp air, the scent of the old earth and blooming gardens mingling in a welcome that is uniquely that of Oma’s home.

“Miss Hannah, welcome back,” Stuart greets me, his voice carrying a formal warmth as he extends his hand to assist me with my bag. His presence, as always, is both comforting and imposing—an echo of the family legacy I carry with me.

“Thank you, Stuart. It's nice to be here,” I reply, my voice a mixture of genuine relief and a touch of resignation. As much as the estate feels like home, it also feels like stepping back into a world where secrets and duties overshadow simple pleasures.

As we ascend the steps together, the familiar weight of the music box and letter in my bag reminds me of the reason for my visit. These items, tokens of a past I'm only just beginning to uncover, feel like keys waiting to unlock the many doors of unanswered questions about my family's history. And as eachstep brings me closer to the grand doors and the revelations they promise, I brace myself for what's to come.

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