Page 15 of Johan.

“Thank you, baby,” she says, her voice softening further. “This means a lot to me.”

“It means a lot to me, too,” I assure her, feeling a smile spread across my face. “I’ll see you tonight then. Eight o’clock?”

“Yes, I’ll send you the address. See you then,” Hannah replies, the smile evident in her voice.

As we hang up, I lean back in my chair, allowing myself a moment to feel hopeful about the coming weekend. It’s a temporary reprieve from our challenges but a precious one, promising not just respite but also the chance to strengthen the bond that has become so crucial to both of us. As I let my thoughts wander, I hear a vibration on my phone, and as I look at it, Astrid’s urgent text flashes on my screen, yanking me back to a reality I’m increasingly desperate to escape. “Call me when you can, it’s urgent!” it reads. With a resigned sigh, I pick up the phone again, steeling myself as I press call.

Her voice bursts through the line, effervescent and full of life. “Hey! How are you? Look, my dad has got tickets to go on a super exclusive art auction in Paris, so I’m flying with him tonight. Do you want to join us?” Her words rush out, filled with excitement about the upcoming event. Her dad truly delivers.

I muster a polite refusal, my tone casual enough not to raise suspicion. “Thanks, but I will stay in. Conrad is staying here too, so I’ll plan something with him.” It's a lie that flows too easily, crafted to protect my real plans for the weekend.

“Alright. Behave,” she chuckles, a line that usually invites a playful response.

“Yes, Miss.” The words feel hollow, but they do their job.

Then, just as I'm about to end the call, she adds something new, something unexpected. “Love you.” The words hang in the air, heavy and unfamiliar. It’s the first time she’s said that, and it strikes a dissonant chord in me.

I hesitate; a part of me wants to address it, to respond to the weight of those words. But another part, the part that’s already halfway out the door, decides to pretend I didn’t hear her. “Have a good flight,” I say instead, keeping my tone even, careful not to betray the turmoil inside.

As I end the call, the weight of her unreciprocated declaration adds a layer of complication I hadn't anticipated. I sit back, the phone now silent on my desk, and stare into the space of my office. The shadows seem to stretch longer across the floor, and the silence feels heavier than before. My thoughts drift back to Hannah, to our planned escape, and I feel both a pang of guilt and a fierce yearning for something that feels real. The contrast between duty and desire sharpens, leaving me restless in its wake.

7

Hannah

The Uber slowsto a gentle stop at the gates of the estate as the sun starts to settle behind the rolling hills, casting long shadows and painting the sky in hues of deep orange and pink. It's close to five pm, and November’s chill is particularly pronounced as dusk approaches, with a breeze rustling through the bare branches of the ancient oaks lining the driveway.

As I step out of the car, my breath visible in the cool air, I take a moment to appreciate the serene beauty of the estate. The stone walls of the house, aged and dignified, stand proudly against the sprawling backdrop of the Cotswolds countryside. The estate is enveloped in a quiet peace, the kind that speaks of centuries of history and memories embedded in its very soil.

Oma Margaret, already anticipating my arrival, is nestled in her favorite armchair beside the fireplace. The room exudes a warmth that goes beyond the physical, filled with rich tapestry and the loving spirit of my grandmother. As I close the door behind me, leaving the November chill outside, I'm envelopedin the embrace of a home that feels timeless, ready to share everything with the woman who has always been my anchor.

“Hannah, my dear, you’ve arrived just in time,” she says with a warm smile, enveloping me in a soft embrace that smells faintly of lavender and sage, scents that remind me of many childhood summers spent under her watchful and nurturing gaze.

“Just in time for a cup of tea?” I suggest, returning her smile as we pull away from the hug.

“That, and perhaps a bit of wisdom for whatever is weighing on your heart,” she replies with a knowing look, guiding me back towards the sitting area by the fireplace. The crackle of the fire adds a comforting soundtrack to the room, filled with gentle warmth.

We settle down into our respective seats—me on the plush couch and Oma Margaret returning to her armchair. She reaches for the teapot on the small table beside her, an ornate piece painted with delicate roses, and pours us each a cup. The tea is a soothing blend, perfect for the chilly evening.

I take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the tea seep into my hands through the porcelain cup. “Speaking of wisdom, there’s something important I need to tell you,” I start, my voice steady despite the turbulence inside.

“Go on, dear. I’m here to listen,” she encourages, her voice gentle.

“The reason why Johan has been forced into this engagement is because…” I want to tell her the truth, I truly do, but I feel the words stick in my mouth, unable to leave.

Oma waits for a moment, looking at me intently. “Because…” she urges.

I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. I’m not ready to tell her about my kleptomania and the stolen artifacts, but Iknow I owe her the truth—maybe not all of it yet, but enough to show I trust her.

“Because Astrid knows about us—about me and Johan,” I finally fess up. “If he doesn’t go through with the engagement, not only could he lose his position, but she threatened to expose our relationship, claiming it could tarnish his reputation and possibly end his academic career.”

Oma sets her own cup down with a clink, her expression hardening with resolve. “And what does Johan say about all this? Surely, he must see this as coercion.”

“He does, and he’s torn. He doesn’t love her. But he’s caught between his feelings and the threat to his future.” My voice cracks slightly, the stress of the situation catching up with me.

“What about Ludovic? Does he know about the two of you?”

“I don’t think so, but he would do anything to keep his precious daughter happy, though. Including getting Johan fired and his reputation destroyed.”

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