HERMIONE
The private jet hummed steadily through the clouds, slicing through the dark sky as we soared toward home — back to America, back to everything we'd almost lost.
Dylan sat beside me, one arm wrapped around my shoulders, the other gently playing with my fingers. His warmth soaked into my skin like sunlight, grounding me after the chaos of the past days. My head rested against his chest, listening to the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. We hadn't said much since takeoff — words felt too small for the magnitude of what we'd just survived — but silence between us wasn't empty. It was sacred.
Daniel and Lia were curled up on the other side of the cabin, their heads tucked together, whispers exchanged with soft smiles. It was strange seeing Daniel like this — softer, open. But the way he looked at Lia? Like she was air and he'd been holding his breath for years. I wasn't surprised anymore.
Claire stretched with a groan from the other seat, yawning like a cat. "If you lovebirds are gonna keep cuddling, I'm gonna throw myself off this plane. Or better yet — I'll go sleep and dream of my own billionaire. Night, heathens."
We all chuckled as she waved and sauntered toward the guest bedroom at the back of the jet.
"I like her," Dylan murmured.
"She's the glue," I whispered. "Always has been."
He kissed the top of my head. "I'm glad you have them. I'm glad I have you."
I turned toward him, searching his face — the tired shadows beneath his eyes, the fine lines of worry carved into his expression. "Do you ever get scared?" I asked, barely above a breath.
He nodded, voice low. "Every time I think about losing you."
I leaned in and kissed him — slow, tender, reassuring. "You won't. We're stronger now."
The moment stretched between us, soft and safe. For the first time since the nightmare began, I let my eyes close in peace.
Until my phone rang.
It vibrated sharply against the table, cutting through the stillness like a blade. Dylan reached for it instinctively, frowning at the unknown number on the screen.
"You want me to—"
"No," I said, already taking it.
"Hello?" My voice cracked with sleep and nerves.
A breathless voice answered. A woman. "Hermione? This is Seraphine's mother."
My heart stopped.
"What—?" I sat upright so fast Dylan immediately steadied me.
"She… she just woke up, Hermione. She's alive. She's been in a coma since that night. We didn't tell anyone… the doctors weren't sure she'd make it."
Tears sprang to my eyes. "What? I—"
"She kept asking for you. Repeating your name. She wouldn't calm down until we promised we'd call. Please… she's awake, and she needs you."
I was already shaking, disbelief flooding my system like ice water. "Where? Where is she?"
"Mount Sinai Hospital. Manhattan. ICU."
"I'll be there as soon as we land," I breathed, voice thick with shock and hope.
"Thank you, Hermione. Thank you for not forgetting her."
The call ended. I stared at the phone like it might vanish from my hand. "Dylan," I said, turning to him, "she's alive. Seraphine… she's alive."
His brows knit, confused. "What? But… they said—"
"She was in a coma. Her parents didn't tell anyone. She just woke up. She asked for me."
Dylan cupped my face in his hands, reading every emotion in my eyes. "Then we'll go to her. First thing."
I nodded, tears falling freely now — not from grief, but the raw, wild hope of something I thought was gone forever.
Seraphine was alive.
And everything was about to change again.