1. Chapter One - Unfamiliar Ground
People always go on about how change is just a part of life, as though dropping that little line is supposed to make everything suddenly feel right.
What they never talk about is the sort of change that yanks the rug out from under you so fast you’re left kicking at the air just to stay upright.
It wasn’t that long ago that I thought I was making my own choices.
Then one decision turned my whole world upside down, and I realized a little too late how quickly life could move in one direction while you were still standing there pretending you had agreed to it.
I packed up everything and crossed from America to England with Ma.
The two of us stepped into whatever came next without much to rely on except each other.
She pitched it as this massive opportunity: a fancy new school that felt exclusive and closed off, chances to meet new people, and a complete fresh start in a country I had only ever seen in movies.
From the outside, it looked perfect, something pulled straight out of a storybook.
Actually being thrown into it felt completely different.
More like crashing into a wave I never saw coming, one that dragged me under before I could catch my breath.
Still, I couldn’t put that weight on her.
She was so focused on chasing her vision, and the last thing I wanted was to make her second-guess everything.
Ma has this relentless drive that never wavers, no matter what life throws at her.
It didn’t surprise me when she started climbing at her job.
She’s a translator, but it’s more than that.
She moves through languages as though they belong to her.
For years, she bounced around the U.S. working with clients who couldn’t get enough of what she could do, turning tense conversations into something smooth and manageable.
Watching her work felt effortless, the way she could take up space without ever needing to raise her voice.
She carried this steady confidence that made everything seem easy.
I had always felt that shift coming. She would hint at something bigger, dropping little comments about an opportunity overseas, something she couldn’t turn down.
Then it happened. England. The life she had already mapped out in her head and the chance she had to take.
My options came down to staying behind alone and trying to build some sort of routine without her or stepping into the unknown right alongside her.
I sold it to her as though I was just as excited about the fresh start, as though this was some blank canvas we could fill however we wanted.
The truth was I wasn’t completely sure I had made the right choice.
Part of me wanted it, sure, but I had traded every corner of my old life for something that still felt unclear around the edges.
Now I was here, stuck in this biting cold that hit differently from anything back home, and I couldn’t stop wondering if I had made the right decision.
All at once, I couldn’t swing by Amy’s anymore for those endless late-night talks where we spilled everything or flopped onto her bed as though it were my default escape.
No more piling into Josh’s rusty truck for chaotic rides through the mud, the sort where we’d end up knee-deep in it while he grinned like an idiot because that was half the fun.
Amy, fierce and gorgeous with her neat brown dreads whipping around her face and that mouth of hers, would yell at him the whole time and swear she’d call for a tow herself if he didn’t knock it off.
That part of my life, the backroads I could have driven with my eyes closed, and the people who understood me without needing explanations, all of it slipped away into a distant haze, as though it belonged to someone else.
What I walked into felt completely different.
The routines, the way people talked, even how they said something as simple as hello changed so drastically it felt as though I was trying to force something into place that didn’t belong there.
It was English, technically, but the way they spoke it might as well have been something else entirely.
My head started aching the second the plane touched down, and the dull pressure never fully left.
It came from the long flight, the unfamiliar energy pressing in from every direction, and a night where sleep refused to come.
I ended up in the center of a stark white room that felt temporary in every sense, with no warmth settling into it at all.
Boxes sat unopened, looming like guests who had overstayed their welcome, and the sparse setup did nothing to soften the emptiness around me.
Even so, the terrace drew me in, so I wandered out onto it.
The wind caught against my bare skin where the oversized sweater had slipped off one shoulder, hanging loose and careworn.
A single lamp cast a soft glow through the branches overhead, cutting a narrow golden path into the shadowed woods stretching below.
I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath, but the cold clung stubbornly to my skin.
Back in Alabama, the sky could shift in an instant, but you always knew the pattern and could brace yourself for what was coming.
Here, the clouds pressed down low and heavy while the wind carried the damp scent of soil.
I didn’t need to check my phone for the forecast. The air already told me it was going to rain.
“Are you enjoying the weather?” a voice called from behind me, breaking the silence and jolting me so hard I nearly lost my footing.
I spun around, gripping the railing. “Ma, seriously,” I said, my breath catching. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that.”
She giggled, folding her arms as she slipped into that familiar mom stance. “Sorry. Actually, no, I’m not. You should be more aware of your surroundings, Ira Grace.”
I crossed my arms, rubbing them for warmth even though it barely helped. “What’d ya need?”
She hesitated, and that pause always meant she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear. “I’m sorry we couldn’t bring your car.”
Of course it was the same routine. She picked her moment perfectly, catching me when exhaustion blurred everything and pulled old memories to the surface. That car wasn’t just a car. It tied me to home, a piece of Pa I still held onto.
“I already told you it’s fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “The school’s close by. I’ll be alright.” I cleared my throat and looked away, shifting the focus. “I’m just really tired. Jet lag’s hitting harder than I thought it would.”
She let out a soft laugh, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Now you know. Go get some rest since you’ve got an early morning.”
“I’m guessing I won’t see you before I leave?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be gone, but I’ll leave some yogurt in the fridge.”
Without another word, she signed "I love you" in ASL.
She always did it the same way, quick at first, then softer the second time, as though she needed to make sure I felt it.
I signed it back, something warm flickering in my chest even as the cold settled deeper into my skin.
Then she stepped inside, leaving me alone again with the wind and the dark.
I stayed out on the balcony a little longer, but the chill cut straight through my sweater and left my fingers numb.
The night felt heavy and too quiet, as though the woods below were holding their breath.
I shook off the uneasy prickle creeping up my spine, the strange pull that made it feel as though something unseen was watching from the dark, and turned away from the railing.
I almost looked back, convinced for a second I’d hear something move, but the woods remained still.
I needed to stop thinking that way. Whatever was happening in the U.S. before I left wasn’t happening here.
The exhaustion settled deeper than the long day alone, twisting low in my stomach and pressing against my chest.
The room felt smaller when I stepped back inside.
Its plain walls and bare corners carried the sense of not quite belonging yet; everything was still packed away or shoved aside in a rush.
I knew adjusting to my new life wouldn’t happen overnight, probably not even after weeks of forcing myself through it.
Still, somewhere inside me, I held onto the hope that eventually things would settle.
One day I’d wake up without feeling as though I was wearing a life that didn’t quite fit.
That quiet hope kept me from falling apart completely as I kicked off my shoes, slipped beneath the covers, stared at the blank ceiling, and finally let sleep take me.
***
“I used to shine bright like gold—”
The alarm shrieked from my phone, slicing through the darkness beneath my blankets.
I groaned, slapping a hand over the screen to silence it.
“Shut up,” I muttered, curling tighter as though that might keep the morning at bay.
For a moment, I let myself pretend there was nowhere I needed to be.
Eventually, I rubbed my nose and forced myself upright, stiff and sluggish, as though I’d dragged myself out of a grave.
Getting dressed took longer than I wanted.
Half my clothes were still crammed into boxes, and digging through them drained what little energy I had left.
I managed the basics anyway, throwing something together and doing just enough with my makeup to pass.
My vape and phone were the real essentials.
As long as I had those, I could get through whatever the day decided to throw at me.