The Lancaster Estate had not felt this alive in years.
From early morning, the grand mansion buzzed with quiet urgency. Footsteps echoed along marble corridors, maids moved in and out of rooms with freshly pressed linens, and silverware gleamed beneath the soft light of tall windows. Even the air itself seemed lighter—expectant.
Isabella Lancaster stood before the tall mirror in her chamber, smoothing the fabric of her pale blue dress with trembling fingers.
"Is this too simple?" she asked softly.
Behind her, a young maid smiled while adjusting a ribbon at Isabella's waist. "Not at all, Miss. You look lovely. His Grace and Her Grace will be very pleased."
Isabella nodded, though her heart was already racing too fast to be calmed by reassurance.
Today.
They were coming back today.
For six years, the Lancaster mansion had been a place of waiting—waiting for letters, waiting for news, waiting for a family that felt more like a distant memory than reality. And now, the waiting was finally ending.
She stepped into the corridor, where Butler Charles Frederick stood with his hands neatly clasped behind his back. His silver hair was perfectly combed, his posture as upright as ever, yet there was a rare softness in his eyes when he looked at her.
"You seem brighter than usual today, Miss Isabella," he said.
She smiled—an unguarded, genuine smile she hadn't worn in a long time. "Is it that obvious, Charles?"
"To those who have watched you grow up in these halls," he replied gently, "yes. Very obvious."
Isabella laughed softly, a sound that startled even herself. The servants exchanged knowing glances. The young lady who had spent years quietly wandering the gardens with a book in hand now moved with restless excitement, unable to stay still.
"Is the carriage from the capital close?" she asked, fingers twisting together.
"They should arrive within the hour," Charles answered. "Everything is prepared."
Isabella nodded, drawing in a deep breath.
Mother. Father. And… my brother.
The thought alone made her chest ache.
---
The sound of wheels crunching against gravel reached the mansion just as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
"They're here!"
Isabella didn't wait for permission. She lifted her skirts and ran down the front steps, the cold winter air biting against her cheeks as she crossed the courtyard. The family carriage came to a stop before the entrance, its dark doors opening slowly.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain everyone could hear it.
Her mother stepped down first.
"Mother—!"
Isabella barely finished the word before she was enveloped in a familiar embrace.
Amory Lancaster held her tightly, her gloved hands trembling as she pressed her daughter close.
"My sweet Isabella," her mother whispered, voice breaking. "You've grown so much."
Tears blurred Isabella's vision. "I missed you," she said, the words tumbling out between shaky breaths. "I missed you both so much."
Her father joined them, one arm wrapping around them both. Liam Lancaster's voice was low and warm as ever. "We're home now."
Isabella clung to them, as if afraid they might disappear again if she let go.
Then—
a presence.
She felt it before she saw him.
Isabella pulled back slightly, wiping her tears as her gaze lifted toward the carriage once more.
A young man stepped down.
For a moment, she didn't recognize him.
He was taller—much taller than the frail boy she remembered. His shoulders were broader, his frame lean but strong beneath his dark coat. His hair, once always untidy, now fell neatly around his face, shadowing features that had sharpened with age.
Seventeen.
That was what her mother had written.
Your brother is seventeen now.
Isabella's breath caught.
"Mattheo…" she whispered.
He looked at her then.
His eyes—blue, calm, and unsettlingly deep—met hers.
"Isabella," he said.
His voice was lower than she remembered. Steadier.
She stepped forward without thinking and wrapped her arms around him. For a brief second, his body went still—too still—before he returned the embrace, his hand resting carefully against her back.
"You're back," she murmured into his chest. "I was so worried."
"I know," he replied quietly. "I'm sorry I made you wait."
She pulled away, searching his face for the familiar smile she used to know. The one he always gave her whenever she pouted or complained or begged him to stay a little longer.
It didn't come.
Instead, there was a small, polite curve of his lips—measured, distant.
Isabella swallowed.
He's changed, she told herself. Of course he has.
Six years. Illness. Growing up.
She smiled anyway. "You look… healthy."
"I am," he answered. "Thanks to Mother and Father."
Her parents exchanged a brief glance, something unreadable passing between them.
"Come inside," Amory said quickly. "It's cold out here."
---
The mansion welcomed them with warmth and familiar scents, yet something felt different.
At the tea table, Isabella watched her family closely. Her mother spoke softly, exhaustion lingering beneath her smiles. Her father listened more than he talked. And Mattheo sat across from her, hands folded neatly, eyes drifting toward the window as if lost in thought.
"You haven't said much," Isabella finally said, attempting lightness. "Are you tired from the journey?"
He turned back to her. "A little."
"You used to talk endlessly during carriage rides," she said with a small laugh. "You'd complain about everything."
His gaze lingered on her for a fraction of a second too long.
"People change," he said.
She nodded, forcing herself to accept the answer. "I suppose they do."
Still… something sat uneasily in her chest.
The boy she remembered had been gentle, playful, always reaching for her hand. The young man before her felt composed—almost guarded.
But when their eyes met again, something flickered there. Something deep and unreadable.
And for reasons she couldn't explain, Isabella felt a strange chill pass through her.
She brushed it away quickly.
He's my brother, she reminded herself. Of course he's different now.
Yet as she watched him sit there—so familiar, and yet not—
a quiet thought slipped into her mind, unwelcome and persistent.
When did you become someone I don't recognize?