Endless Bonds Copyright © 2016 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

or the last time mom, I've got everything."

Cradling my phone between my ear and the crook of my shoulder, I haul my luggage across the airport.

"Are you certain you've got everything? I know you were having some last minute packing issues. Is your luggage too heavy? Oh, God. What about breakfast? Did you take your vitamins this morning?"

My mom is acting out as usual - worrisome and controlling. The start of a headache simmers in the back of my head as I listen to her fire question after question. I'm jetlagged, exhausted, and my stomach is rumbling. I need food and a nap.

Unfortunately, the latter is going to have to wait until I finish unpacking and settling in my new dormitory. I want to carry this conversation when I'm no longer physically and mentally drained, and standing in the middle of a crowded airport with people pushing and shoving past me.

"I wish I could be there, you know." My mom sighs deeply. She's currently in South Asia, touring with a team of humanitarian assistants to film some kind of documentary, and help those in dire need. Being a history teacher, she claims that this has always somewhat been her true calling. "I've missed you, darling."

The sad note in her tone sends a pang through my chest. "I wish you were here, too," I say, rubbing at my bleary eyes. "I miss you more."

After veering my belongings through a throng of bodies, I now sat down on a bench near the entrance from where my friend Oliver promised to pick me up.

Mom switches up the direction of our conversation and tells me more about the refugees and orphans she's met on her trip. I listen with as much attention as I can muster, which, not going to lie, isn't a lot.

My mind is more focused on the last time I saw my mom when I came down for four days from France during the holidays. I miss her face, her voice and her humour. A feeling of nostalgia crawls over me as I realize that after eight months, I'm finally back at the one place where I grew up and held so dearly to my heart.

An endless dose of French macaroons, late night opéras and beautiful Parisian weather can never hold a candle against the feeling of finally returning to my sanctuary – my home.

"Just a couple of more weeks, darling. I promise the second I land, the first thing I'm doing is driving up to campus to pick you up. Then we're going to go out for some good quality Chinese food. Tara can tag along as well."

I laugh at the mention of Tara's name and my chest tightens with a vaguely familiar feeling of utter sadness. The thought of my best friends is enough to bring a smile to my face. But it's also enough to have me break down and cry a million tears.

After high school, keeping in touch with the girl wasn't easy. We still try with great difficulty, but it's not the same. Last I heard, Natalie has gotten accepted in Julliard, and she's finally commencing her second year. Teagan is in Boston, Massachusetts attending Harvard's prestigious business program. Tara Simmons is the only one I have left here.

"I'll be sure to ask her when I see her today. I have no doubt she'll join us."

Tara has no idea that I'm coming. My transfer has been a secret for several months so I could surprise everyone. Recently, however, I was forced to tell Oliver since I would need a ride from the airport to campus. He also said he was going to help me unpack - that was an added bonus.

I glance down at my watch and realize that Oliver should be here any minute. "Mom, I hate to do this but..."

She sighs again. "You need to go? It's alright, sweets. I'm almost done my break. I got to get back to work, too."

"I love you," I mumble, grasping my phone tightly just as the pace of my heart doubles over. "And I really, really miss you, momma. I wish you'd been the first face I saw when I landed."

Silence rushes between us until I can hear the crackling sound of the wind on the other side of the receiver. For a brief second, I think my mom has hung up on me. Until I hear something suspiciously like a broken sob leave her mouth.

"Oh, Cher...me, too." She sniffs and my guts churns at the desperate sound. "I really got to get back to work now. Take care and you be good. If there's an emergency, don't hesitate to contact me, okay?"

I nod, feeling the sudden prickle of tears in my eyes. "Okay."

"Now, is there something else you wanted to tell me or is that all?"

"I'll call you if anything," I reassure her one last time. "I love you, mom. Bye."

"I love you, too." And the line goes dead.

Right when I'm about to put my phone away, it rings with a new text message. It's Oliver. He's just arrived and is looking for parking. Excitement thrums through my veins. I send a quick reply and stuff my phone in my jeans pocket.

The movement causes the diamond on my left ring finger to catch light and gleam.

Suddenly, guilt flares within me.

I lied to my mom. She's been getting suspicious lately, claiming that I'm acting weird whenever I call her. A part of me can't register the fact that I'm engaged a little less than a year after dating my boyfriend. Telling her means that I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that I've found the one who I'm ready to spend the rest of my life with at the simple age of nineteen.

She is going to have a freaking coronary.

I angle my hand, studying the intricate weaving patterns carved on the gold band. Under my perusing gaze, it feels as though it weighed a ton. When really, my ring is as light as a feather.

After dating my boyfriend for seven months, he'd gotten down on one knee in front of the whole population of our favourite Parisian seafood restaurant – La Sirène – and asked me if I would do the honour of gracing him with my "magnifique présence" – his words, not mine – for the rest of his life as his lawfully wedded wife. Pierre Aguillard is charming and unpredictable like that. After the initial shock of his proposal, my eyes had connected with his deep blue depths and what I saw there – fierce longing and yearning for me – had me jumping to my feet and stuttering a million yeses.

He makes me laugh like no other, keeps me on my toes and is one of my best friends. For once in my life, I feel like things are finally falling into place, like I'm finally making the right decision. There's no way I'd let Pierre slip between my clumsy fingertips.

But things in my life are never steady. It's like a curse. I have learned it the hard way. All good things for me come to an early end. I've experienced it with my parents and other past relationships. There's a childish part of me that firmly believes that if I tell the news now, subconsciously I'm jinxing myself.

Hence the reason why I'm keeping my lips glued.

Pierre has proposed to me over a month ago, yet I'm still not ready to spread around the word. Maybe I need a little more time to gather my jumbled thoughts and emotions.

I'm fiddling with my ring when I feel someone's gaze on me. Snapping my head up, I come face-to-face with Oliver. A gasp flies past my lips and I jump to my feet.

"Come to daddy," he muses. Tawny golden eyes twinkle with mischief and a Cheshire grin curves onto his mouth as he spreads his arms wide open.

I run the short distance between us and jump him. Arms and legs loop around his strong body in a choke hold. Air whooshes out of our lungs from the collision, but I don't care. I've finally spotted a familiar face and I'm hugging the one boy who's been like a brother to me my entire life. Oliver is family.

He hugs me back as fiercely, giving a tight squeeze before trying to pry my limbs off. "Now, Cher. You know I love you very much, but if my girlfriend caught me like this, she'd most likely castrate my boys."

"Your boys?"

"AKA my balls."

I giggle and drop to my feet. "Your balls will stay intact, Oliver. Promise."

He grins. "Well that's motherfucking reassuring."

We gaze at each other for another moment, as if drinking in the sight of each other's face. It's been so long. Something inside of me snaps. A dam breaks. I suck my lips inside my mouth as I feel my eyes water all over again. Mortification consumes me when I feel the first of tears stream down my cheek.

Oliver starts running his hands down my arms in a comforting manner. "Oh, God," he mutters, eyes the size of saucers. "I was just kidding; Inga's not the kind to flip shit. Please, don't cry. You're basically my sister, but it's not considered incest."

Slapping his chest, I wipe under my eyes with the cuff of my sleeve. "Oliver – shut up. I don't care about your girlfriend. I'm just emotional. I missed you, and I haven't been here in almost a year."

His face drops and he folds me against him. For a couple of seconds, he rocks us back and forth. "Ah, sweetheart," he murmurs gently into my hair. "I missed you, too. So much. Don't ever run off like that again."

When I peer up, I notice his throat working with emotion.

"I didn't run away." My voice sounds desperate even to my own ears. "I needed to go... for my own benefit. You know that, right? You do know that. Everyone knows that."

I could not have stayed here after everything. As much as this was my home, I felt suffocated back then, like the air was slowly being sucked out of my windpipes. I was in a turmoil and I needed to drag myself out of it. France proved to be the perfect escape I longed for.

But I'm a grown up now and ready to move on with my life.

Oliver knows that.

We get a couple of awe glances from bystanders who probably assume we're a reunited couple. I press my cheek against his shirt and wrap my arms tighter around his waist.

He rests his chin on top of my head. "I know, Cheryl. It's okay. No one holds it against you. You did what you had to do. All that matters now is that you're back home."

My lips curl at the statement. "I'm home." I relish the sound of the distantly familiar words on my tongue.

Oliver cants his head. and a foreign look enters his glittering eyes. With a smile that I savor, he repeats, "You are home."

And this time I'm back for good.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬