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" Y ou're really here."

The words came out as a mixture of both surprise and delight. Alethea Carter was not sure how to respond, as she looked up at the woman saying them to her.

Daphne Carter. Her sister, if only in name.

Alethea froze just beyond the carriage door at her sister's words.

She had imagined this moment for days, dreaded it for years, and now that it had arrived, she found herself untethered.

Her fingers clutched at the folds of her travelling cloak, willing herself to step down and join the life she had been taken from.

This is your home, she told herself. And this is your family.

Even though she had been born here at Glavingale Estate, it was difficult for her to see it as home. She had been gone for most of her life, and now wasn't sure if this moment should feel like a homecoming or an entirely new beginning.

"I—" she began, but her voice cracked. Alethea was not one to be tongue-tied often, but the moment felt too big for words. What was one supposed to say when they returned to a home that they had never actually known?

Or had any memories of living in?

Daphne crossed the distance between them, and wrapped her into a tight embrace. It was the first time in over a decade that someone had touched her with familial intent. The intimacy of the moment made Alethea step back for a moment. She was not used to being shown such affection.

"Forgive me," Daphne said, pulling back as if she had overstepped. "It's just that… we weren't certain this day would ever come. You must understand that it means a great deal for us for you to be back here after so long."

"I share that sentiment," Alethea replied, still feeling her stomach erupt with nervousness. She noticed a look of worry cross Daphne's face, and Alethea recognized it not as pity, but the unfamiliar warmth of a sister's care.

This was going to take a while to get used to, Alethea thought to herself.

Behind her stood two other young women. Alethea recognized them, if only from fragmented memories.

"Felicity," said the second woman, taking Alethea's hand warmly. "And this is Joyce."

"I remember," Alethea murmured, though the truth was that she did not, not in any tangible way. It was just glimpses of her life before she had been taken away.

"It's all right," Joyce said quickly, as if she could sense the lie. "We barely remember either."

There was an awkward pause, like all four of them were navigating the shape of a memory that no longer fit.

"I used to follow you about the house," Joyce added, as if grasping at something cheerful. "Felicity says I was terribly annoying."

"You were," Felicity said with a small smile. "But we were all children back then."

Alethea nodded, but didn't speak. She wasn't sure how much they knew of what had happened.

The truth was, even she wasn't sure what parts of her life counted as the truth anymore.

The convent had been her entire world for so long.

And now she stood among three sisters who had grown up without her, and who thought that she had been dead all these years.

"It will take time," Daphne said gently, as if reading her mind. "We don't expect things to feel familiar right away. We just want you to know… you're wanted here."

Wanted. It felt strange to hear that about herself. It was a word she had come to understand as a privilege that she did not have.

"Yes, Daphne is right," Joyce cut in, a nervous smile playing up on the corners of her face as though she was worried about saying the wrong thing somehow. "We had never really forgotten about you."

Alethea bit back her response. She did not know what to say to them, or if she should challenge that statement.

If they had not forgotten about her, as they were claiming to, why did no one come looking for her sooner?

There were many questions that she did not have the answers to yet, but for the time being, she decided to hold back.

After all, for the first time in her life, she seemed to have the luxury of time on her side.

"Shall we go inside?" Felicity suggested with a reluctant expression that was not much different to the one that Joyce had on her face.

Alethea found herself wondering what their conversations about her would have been like.

Did they really feel happy at the news of her return, or did they have a different reaction?

You will find out in due time, she reminded herself again. It occurred to her that she was going to have to keep telling herself that for many things.

"We shall," Alethea answered, realizing that all three women were looking anxiously towards her for a response. They broke out in nervous smiles.

"Good, very good," Daphne nodded, "Right this way, then."

They led her up the steps of Glavingale Manor. As they stepped into the entrance hall, Alethea's breath caught at the sight of two footmen standing silently by the door. A maid passed with a silver tray, offering a low curtsy before disappearing through a side corridor.

Alethea blinked.

She had never been bowed to before. Or at least, she could not recall if she ever had.

In the nunnery, there had been no servants.

Rather, there had been chores to do and strict obedience that was expected of you.

The idea of someone being paid to wait on her felt strange and it dawned on her that life here was much different than the one that she had been accustomed to.

Daphne seemed to notice her way that her shoulders had tensed up at the scene.

"They're used to keeping the house running. Think nothing of it," she whispered to her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Would you like to rest first?" Joyce asked, her eyes darting between Daphne and then Alethea. "I imagine it must have been no easy journey here."

"Yes," Alethea said after contemplating on the matter for a moment. "I think I would, thank you."

Joyce gave a quick nod, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"It must have been a long ride. I always get terribly restless after more than an hour in the carriage."

Alethea offered a polite smile, though the journey had felt much longer for reasons other than distance. If anything, that felt like the easiest part of it all. Now it felt like things were going to get difficult.

Though, of course, she realized that it might also be her mind making things worse for herself. It was something that it had a knack of doing. Often, she conjured up the worst possible version of events playing out in her head. It did not do her good, yes. But in a sense, it prepared her as well.

So then in her mind, it was a practical measure of things. It was something that Alethea had gotten rather adept in. She was someone who took things at face value, and then tried to conjure up a darker side to it. In her life, she had known that most things have a dark side.

"I'm more tired from everything else, I think," she said, baring out her thoughts with honesty.

It took her a moment to realize that perhaps her thoughts had been too honest. But it was another habit she had. She was used to speaking her mind. The nuns had always told her that lying was a terrible sin, and must never be done. It was ingrained in her now as an ethos.

She had only really lied once, she remembered, wincing at the memory. And then quickly shut out the thought from her mind.

Felicity glanced at her, a flicker of concern crossing her features. Maybe she had not expected her to be so candid, so soon. Alethea could hardly blame her, either.

"It's a great deal to take in," she said. "You've come home to a family you barely know. I can't imagine how strange it must feel. How does it feel?"

Alethea hesitated. She did not wish to offend them with her honesty, which she knew was always a possibility. But then again, lying to them seemed like a worse option.

They were kind. She could feel it. And yet, kindness felt almost as difficult to bear as coldness.

"It feels like I've stepped into someone else's life," she admitted, once again honest in a way that might seem startling to others. "I don't mean that ungratefully. Only… everything is so different from what I'm used to."

"It has been twenty-three years," Felicity spoke, her voice tinged with an emotion much heavier than what she was displaying. "Naturally, this is to be expected. You should not worry about feelings at this stage."

Alethea nodded.

Twenty-three years ago, she had been separated from her family, at the tender age of three. She had spent her entire life being raised in a nunnery, growing up in an environment that was starkly different from the one that her sisters had seen. A whole lifetime had passed between them.

"I remember nothing of it," she admitted. "Of this life that I was supposed to lead."

"That's all right," Daphne said, once again the calmest of them all, "but there should be no doubt that this had been your life. It's just... been waiting for you to return to it."

The words gave Alethea a pause. If someone had told her this for most of her life, she would have never believed them.

In her time at the nunnery, it felt like there was no more life outside of it.

She had been shut in, and kept there for so long that the idea of life existing at a normal pace elsewhere seemed like a dream or a morbid reality that she could never experience.

"We always thought…" Joyce hesitated. "We were told you died.

In the river, do you remember? They said you must've fallen in and then there were no signs of you.

I believe that our parents tried to search for you, afterwards.

But there was no progress on that front.

Eventually, they had to give up their search as well. "

"I was told the same," Alethea replied, without emotion. Surprising, given the nature of the topic. But she had a different way of reacting to things, based on her own life experiences. Her sisters exchanged a glance, seeming a bit uneasy.