His phone buzzed again, screen lighting up on the coffee table.

A message from the private investigator.

“Possible match found. Brindlewood, rural area. Name: Elara Voss. Age matches. Photo attached.”

His pulse jumped.

With steady fingers, Cassian opened the attached file.

There she was.

The photo showed a young woman behind the counter of a small bookstore — her head slightly tilted, arranging books on a shelf. Her dark hair brushed her cheek. The soft curve of her face... the familiar shape of her eyes.

She wasn’t smiling.

But he knew those eyes.

His breath caught. It’s her.

“Finally...” he whispered, the word tasting like hope after years of silence.

The investigator’s message continued:

“No signs of family in town. Living alone. Attends local university. Works part-time at the bookstore. Want me to approach first?”

Cassian’s thumb hovered over the reply button.

No. I’ll go myself.

His manager’s voice broke into the moment from the kitchen.

“Your morning shoot got moved to next week. Looks like you’ve got tomorrow free for once.”

Cassian barely heard him.

“Good. I need the car ready. I’m leaving in the morning.”

“Where to?”

Cassian turned away from the window, his eyes sharper than they had been in years.

“Brindlewood.”

---

In the quiet town of Brindlewood, Elara Voss wiped down the bookstore’s worn counter, the bell over the door chiming softly as the last customer left.

It had been an unusually quiet afternoon.

Mrs. Hargrove popped in just before closing, arms full of wildflowers from her shop.

“Elara, you’ve been hiding under a rock, dear? You haven’t heard the news?”

Elara smiled faintly. “What news?”

“That big star — what’s his name — Cassian Rhys! Apparently he’s on TV looking for someone. Said some mystery girl saved his life years ago.” Mrs. Hargrove grinned. “Sounds like the start of one of those city dramas you hate.”

Elara gave a polite laugh, barely interested. “Probably a stunt to stir up fans.”

“Maybe... but strange things happen when famous people start looking for nobodies like us,” the old woman winked and headed out into the rain.

Elara flipped the ‘Closed’ sign and locked the door behind her.

Celebrities. Dramas. Big cities. All things that belonged far, far away.

As she gathered her bag, her phone buzzed on the counter.

A text message.

Unknown number.

“Elara Voss? This is regarding an old acquaintance. Please contact us.”

She stared, frowning.

Who? What acquaintance?

Her thumb hovered over the screen, uneasy. No name. No explanation.

A quiet chill crept up her spine.

Across the country, Cassian Rhys packed his bag, eyes burning with determination.

After nine long years, he was finally closing the distance between them.

And Elara Voss was about to discover that her peaceful, forgotten past wasn’t so forgotten after all.