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I step out of JFK and am immediately greeted by the sounds, heat, and smells of New York City. After two years away, I realize I had forgotten how bustling this place can be. Cab drivers pick up passengers faster than people can take their suitcases off the luggage belt.

For a brief second, the onslaught of sights and sounds reminds me why I left in the first place.

Straight out of college, I wanted some quiet to figure out what I needed from life.

My room walls were filled with pictures of villages in the Philippines and the cobblestoned paths of Europe, and I convinced my brothers to let me see the world, to fulfill my dream of traveling.

The two years of backpacks and hostels, of being nobody special, felt like a dream.

And now that dream feels like it’s been smacked right out of me as a driver abuses a customer for not leaving a tip. Good old New York.

Thank God for my travels; the memories of which I now know keep me sane, and I will carry them forever.

For those two years, I was mistaken for just another American girl trying to stretch every dollar while on the road.

Little did people know about my hidden bank accounts, which I never touched on principle due to the independence I was pursuing, or the plain-clothed bodyguards observing my movements from a considerable distance when traveling through dangerous cities.

But now, I’m finally back home.

I scan the arrivals area for my driver, expecting one of the many our family employs. Instead, a squeal pierces through the chatter of the terminal, stealing my attention to the source of the sound.

“Beth! BETH!”

My eyes widen at the sight of two blonde women barreling toward me through the crowd. Both of them are running so fast that their security detail finds it hard to keep up. I laugh at the image, their bodyguards frowning at their heels, as I move to greet my cousins.

Sofia and Natalia aren’t just my cousins; they’re my sisters in every sense of the word. They reach my side with arms outstretched, barking orders at their exasperated bodyguards to handle my luggage.

“Oh my God!” I laugh as they collide into me.

“You're really home,” Sofia says, pulling back to examine me like I’m a fragment of her imagination. “Your skin is so tan! And your hair—it's so much longer!”

“And you're wearing torn jeans,” Natalia adds with mock horror, plucking at my worn denim. “We need to get you back in the shops immediately. This hippie life is so over.”

I laugh at Natalia’s words. Of course she’d say that. “Sofia got to you, huh?” I wink.

“You know how she is.” Natalia shakes her head. “She forced me to spend more than an average New York rental on a dress recently.”

“Hey, it’s not like you had to pay for it.” Sofia rolls her eyes.

“Well, not all of us are blessed with husbands like yours,” I tell the women, linking my arms through theirs.

“We don’t need our husbands’ money.” Sofia flips her sleek, pin-straight blonde hair over her shoulder with a haughtiness that makes a few men turn in awe. “And neither do you.”

“I know, I know,” I murmur, thinking about my massive, untouched bank account. “God, I've missed you both so much,” I say, feeling it more deeply than I realized.

We reach the car, surrounded by a convoy of others, and pile right in. Some things never change. This part of my life—the one where we’re constantly watched—is not something I missed.

“I can't believe you're actually back,” Sofia says once we're moving, the city sliding past. “Two years of postcards were simply not enough.”

“I sent videos too,” I protest weakly.

“Thirty-second clips of you in front of some monument don't count as staying in touch,” Natalia chides me with a smile. “We've missed having another woman around who isn't married yet to remind us of what being single feels like.”

Sofia rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You've been married for just over a year, not four decades.”

“An amazing year,” Natalia corrects, her left hand fluttering up with a diamond that could probably fund another two years of travel.

“No one likes a show off,” I tease my cousin. “But I’m happy to bring some spark back into your lives. Now tell me, where are we going?” I ask as I look out of the window and notice we aren’t heading in the general direction of the penthouse my brothers and I share when in New York.

“We were thinking,” Sofia says, turning to me, “since your brothers are still out of the country on business—”

“All of them?” I interject, surprised. Ardalion has been trying to get in touch for a few days, but I always end up missing his calls because of the time difference.

“Lion and Benedikt are in Moscow, Sergey's in Dubai, and Samuil's in London.”

“When will they be back?” I ask out of curiosity.

“No idea.” Natalia shrugs. “Anyway, until your brothers are back, you'll be staying with Nikolai and Anoushka. We're all spending tonight there too! We thought we could have a good old reunion to welcome you home.”

“That sounds great,” I say gleefully. I’ve always loved Nikolai, and my cousin-in-law Anoushka is an absolute riot. Not to mention, their house has an open-door policy that allows the entire family to come and go often, and I’ve been dying to see all my little nieces and nephews.

“Will your husbands be joining?” I ask. “And the kids?”

“Yes, Vladimir and Denis will be there,” Natalia says. “Along with everyone else who's in town. But we thought we could leave the kids out of it.”

“School night, you know.” Sofia shrugs.

I watch my sisters with pride. There was a time once when we’d hole up with endless bottles of wine and not give a damn about the hangover the next day. Now, they are managing their own households, families, work, and children.

How far they’ve come since getting married.

A familiar guilt comes coursing back to me. Unlike me, who has evaded any and all responsibility toward family, they've both married into the powerful Zolotov family, strengthening the alliance between us.

“I'm sorry I missed your weddings,” I say with a sigh. “Both of you deserved to have me there.”

Sofia reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You sent beautiful gifts and called us both. We understand. You were halfway across the world.”

Do they, though? I look out the window at the city that was once my home, but now feels like an entirely different world. Did anyone really understand why I suddenly needed to disappear after college? I'm not sure I fully understand it myself.

I just knew that if I didn't go then, I might never have the chance again.

I feel a pang of something like homesickness, though I'm technically coming home. Maybe it's for the anonymous girl I was on those streets of Asia. I was just Lilibeth. No one there even knew what the name Orlov meant.

“So tell us everything,” Natalia demands, pulling me back into the present. “The real stuff, not the censored version you'd tell Nikolai.”

I laugh, grateful for the distraction from my thoughts. “Well, there was this guy in Amsterdam—”

“I knew it!” Sofia claps her hands. “Foreign fling!”

“Several flings, actually,” I admit, enjoying their scandalized expressions. “What? You think I spent two years in celibacy?”

“Details. Now.” Natalia leans forward, eyes gleaming.

I tell them about Marcel, the French chef I met in Thailand, and Stefan, the German photographer in Greece who took me on the worst date of my life, one I skipped out on within an hour.

I leave out others—some stories are just for me.

As we talk and laugh, the heaviness in my chest begins to lift.

This is what I missed most: familial belonging.

But behind the laughter, the current of guilt still runs deep.

While I was finding myself on beaches and hiking up mountains, my cousins and brothers were here, shouldering responsibilities and keeping our family business running.

They gave me precious time and freedom, while asking nothing in return except the occasional proof of life.

Now it's time to repay that debt. I’m not the same girl I was years ago, overwhelmed by the idea of taking responsibility.

After all I’ve seen, the stories I’ve heard, the lonely people I’ve met along the way, I understand just how lucky I am to have a family willing to sacrifice for me.

Now, I want nothing more than to help my family in whatever way necessary to keep us strong.

What we share is worth working hard to preserve.

The car slows as we turn into a gated driveway, and I see the old crew of guards waving their hellos with smiling faces. Nikolai's mansion appears through the trees.

“God, I’d forgotten how huge this place was,” I murmur, staring out of the window at the fountains, the sweeping gardens, the double-storied villa.

“Home sweet home,” Sofia says as we exit the car. I reach for my suitcases, but remember then that there’s staff here to do stuff like that. What a luxury after dragging my own luggage across the world.

The front door opens, and Anoushka emerges, looking elegant as always.

“Lilibeth,” she says warmly, opening her arms for a hug. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you for having me,” I say.

“Don't be silly. This is your home. The children have been asking when their Aunty Beth will be here for days now,” she ushers us inside. “I’ve set you up in the room next to the library. Go rest, shower, or do whatever you need. We’ll catch up in the evening when everyone’s here.”

“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand and thank my cousins one more time for their hospitality before heading upstairs. After all those interconnecting flights, I could certainly use a bath and a nap.

***

That evening, I exit my room and on the way downstairs, hear the voices and laughter travelling from the living room.

Everyone’s here, I think excitedly, and I rush toward the doors of the gathering.