"Will you bring souvenirs from Velmoria?" Haven looked up at Charlotte, her bright eyes filled with excitent. "I heard they have beautiful gemstone jewelry there!"
Charlotte smiled, warmth spreading in her chest. "I’ll send you pictures so you can pick what you like yourself."
She still couldn’t quite believe it—after five years, she was finally going ho. It felt surreal. So much ti had passed that the mories of her old bedroom were becoming hazy.
Would it still be the sa? Or had her parents rearranged it?
"Charlotte, are you ready to go?"
She turned to see Damon standing by the door, carrying their bags—just enough clothes for two days, along with a few gifts for her parents.
"I’ll be out in a second," she said before turning back to Haven. She smoothed a hand over the girl’s soft hair and smiled. "Let’s have a movie night when I get back, okay?"
Haven nodded eagerly. "Don’t stay too long! I’ll miss you!"
Charlotte let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling lighter. Vera and the others had said the sa thing, all of them standing by the entrance, waving as she and Damon stepped out.
It was strange.
She hadn’t thought about it too much before, but sowhere along the way, Crimson Moon Manor had beco ho.
A few months ago, she would’ve never imagined feeling this way. Back then, she had been afraid—afraid that the people here would never accept her, that she was just an outsider, that they secretly wanted her gone.
But all those fears had only been whispers in her mind, bad voices that were trying to hunt her.
Yes, they had been wary of her at first, but that was long behind them now.
None of them hated her. In fact, they had made sure she never felt like an outsider, even though she wasn’t officially part of the Sullivan family yet.
She sighed slowly, shaking off the lingering emotions, then glanced around.
"Where’s our car?" she asked, a little confused.
"What car?" Damon chuckled. "We’re taking a helicopter."
Charlotte blinked, montarily stunned. "A helicopter? Why? I told you we’re not in a hurry."
Damon stepped closer, tilting his head slightly. "Don’t you want to spend more ti with your parents?" He continued, "If we take a car, it’ll take at least three to four hours to get to Velmoria. We’d be wasting ti, sweetheart."
Still, she hesitated. "But ... I’m not great with heights," she admitted in a quieter voice.
She hated admitting it, but air travel had never been her favorite. At least on a plane, she could avoid sitting by the window, pretending she wasn’t thousands of feet in the air. But a helicopter? There was no escape.
Sohow, it felt even more daunting than a plane. Too small. Too open. Too easy to imagine the ground beneath them.
Damon studied her for a mont, then gently reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I’ll be with you the whole ti," he murmured. "You won’t even have ti to think about the height, I promise."
Charlotte let out a slow sigh, biting the inside of her cheek. He made it sound so easy, as if his presence alone could erase her fears. And maybe it could—at least, enough for her to step onto that helicopter.
With a reluctant sigh, she squeezed his hand. "Alright. But if I pass out mid-flight, it’s your fault."
Damon grinned. "If that happens, I’ll catch you."
Charlotte lightly smacked his chest. "It’s not funny."
Damon chuckled, catching her hand before she could pull away. "I know, I know. I’m sorry, sweety."
The mont Charlotte stepped into the helicopter, she imdiately regretted it.
The interior was sleek and luxurious—of course, because it was Damon’s. But the large windows surrounding them made it impossible to ignore just how high they were about to be.
Her hands trembled as she buckled her seatbelt, her fingers gripping the armrest a little too tightly. Damon sat beside her and placed his hand on top of her, but even that wasn’t enough to stop the nervousness.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, leaning closer. "Look at ."
She turned her head, forcing herself to et his gaze instead of staring at the ground disappearing beneath them.
"There you go," he said in such a gentle tone. "Just focus on ."
She did.
Damon held her hand tightly, rubbing slow, reassuring circles over her palm. "It’s just a short flight," he reminded her. "Before you know it, we’ll be in Velmoria."
Charlotte inhaled deeply, then exhaled, trying to match her breathing with his. Slowly, her shoulders relaxed. The tension in her chest eased, even for just a little.
"Better?" he asked.
She nodded. "A little."
His lips curved into a smile. "Good. Now, let’s see if I can distract you until we land." he said, "How about playing a little ga?"
Charlotte raised a brow. "A ga?"
Damon nodded, he smiled playfully. "I’ll ask you a question about Velmoria, and if you get it right, you get a reward."
She asked, "And if I get it wrong?"
"You still get a reward," he said smoothly.
She chuckled. "That doesn’t sound like a fair ga."
"It is, for ," he teased, his thumb tracing circles over her knuckles. "Alright, first question: What is Velmoria most famous for?"
Charlotte hesitated, then answered, "Its handcrafted gemstone jewelry and woven textiles."
"Correct." Damon leaned in, brushing a light kiss against her temple. "Reward."
Her face ward, but she refused to let him see how flustered she was. "That was too easy."
"Alright, next one," he said, "What’s the na of the most famous bakery in Velmoria"
That made her pause. mories flickered in her mind—the scent of warm bread, the atmosphere of the bakery she often saw when she went there with her high school friends.
"Rosalind’s Bakery," she said softly.
Damon’s smile deepened, his voice quieter now. "Correct again."
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand this ti, not once but a few tis like he was adoring her hand.
Charlotte swallowed, her heart beating just a little too fast. "You’re just find an excuse to kiss ," she muttered.
"Maybe," he admitted, laughing softly. "But you seem distracted now, don’t you?"
She blinked, realizing that sowhere between his teasing and the warmth of his touch, she had completely forgotten about her fear of heights.
Charlotte let out a breath and shook her head with a small laugh. "I do."
• •
When they finally landed in Velmoria, Charlotte’s nerves lted into excitent. The helicopter touched down in a adow just a short distance from her parents’ house, the familiar landscape stirring sothing deep within her.
And then she saw them.
Her parents stood near the helicopter, their faces lighting up the mont their eyes t hers.
Without thinking, she rushed forward, her mother’s arms opening just in ti to pull her into a tight, warm embrace. Her father’s steady hand rested on her back, his voice thick with emotion as he murmured, "Welco ho, sweetheart."
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in the familiar scent of her mother’s perfu, the comforting presence of her father.
Damon stood a few steps behind, watching the reunion with quiet respect. When her mother pulled back, she wiped at Charlotte’s cheek, smiling warmly before turning her attention to the man who had accompanied her daughter.
"I didn’t expect you to co as well, Mr. Sullivan," said Hattie. Despite her frequent visits to Crimson Moon Manor, Damon rarely had the chance to et her parents due to his busy schedule.
"Please, just call Damon, Mrs. Dawson."
"Alright then, Damon," said Hattie.
After seeing their daughter always smiling every ti they visited Northbridge, both of them no longer had any negative feelings toward him.
They made their way toward the Dawson house. As Charlotte stepped through the gate, she couldn’t help but smile.
Not much had changed—the koi pond near the entrance was still there, and if anything, there were more fish than she rembered, lazily gliding beneath the surface.
The willow trees in the front yard still stood tall and strong, reminding Charlotte of all the tis she had spent beneath them, practicing her scripts in the quiet shade.
Her gaze drifted to the willow trees in the front yard, their branches swaying gently in the breeze.
A familiar warmth settled in her chest as mories resurfaced—countless afternoons spent beneath their shade, flipping through scripts, mouthing lines to herself, lost in the world of characters she longed to bring to life.
It felt strange, yet comforting, to be back.
"Let’s get inside." Hattie smiled warmly. "Our cooks have prepared plenty of your favorite dishes. You need to eat a lot today!"
Charlotte hesitated for a split second, but she quickly masked it with a small smile. "That sounds wonderful, Mom."
Damon, standing beside her, glanced down, his sharp eyes catching the subtle tension in her posture.
He must have known that Charlotte was having a battle in her mind.
"We ate before coming here, Mrs. Dawson," Damon said smoothly. "So maybe Charlotte won’t be able to eat too much."
"Oh, is that so?" Hattie looked a bit disappointed. "Well, that’s my fault for not ntioning that I had prepared so much food. But that’s okay! We can save the leftovers for tomorrow!"
Charlotte turned to Damon, offering him a grateful smile as she silently mouthed, "Thank you."
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