Viona's POV
"Oh Viona… how I missed you, dear… how…" She didn't finish. She pulled away from the hug too quickly. Her face hardened.
"Ah, what am I doing? I shouldn't be like this. You must be startled. Let's go. We should come in."
She withdrew her hands at once, then slipped her arm around my father. He looked almost the same. Only the lines on his face had carved deeper.
Our eyes barely met. He still wore that same stern facade that never faded. The sight of it made the hair at the back of my neck rise like a quiet alarm telling me to run.
But I was done running.
Rafael took my hand again as we followed them inside. The old oak scent filled my lungs the moment I stepped in. Earthy. Aged. Familiar. A sharp reminder that I once loved this house.
No matter how cold my parents were, this place had once felt like a sanctuary because of the ancient oak tree at its heart.
