Chapter 61 A Soft Landing

Chapter 61 A Soft Landing
When I dragged my box to a coffee shop bustling on the street of Perth, my arms already sore and my breath uneven, I decided against going by the new name and identity that Nina had chosen for me. Mara. I snorted under my breath at the thought, the sound coming out sharp and humorless. The name felt ridiculous in my head, like an ill-fitting coat someone else had thrown over my shoulders without asking if I wanted it.

Mara.

It didn’t sound like me. It didn’t think like me. It didn’t carry the weight of every mistake I’d made or every love I’d buried. It felt hollow, artificial, stripped of history—exactly the kind of name someone like Nina would assign when she wanted to erase a person without leaving fingerprints behind.

I stood there for a moment, the box scraping lightly against the pavement as I adjusted my grip, the noise of the street pressing in on me from all sides. Laughter spilled out of the coffee shop, mingling with the hiss of steaming milk and the sharp scent of roasted beans. People moved past me with purpose, bumping shoulders, talking loudly, living loudly. No one spared me a second glance.

And that, somehow, hurt more than I expected.

I shifted my weight, my fingers tightening around the cardboard until it bent slightly beneath my grip. This was supposed to be freedom. That’s what Nina would call it. A clean slate. A new beginning. A new name to match the woman she wanted me to become—or rather, the woman she wanted me to stop being.

But I wasn’t ready to disappear into a word that didn’t belong to me.

I was still Abby. Even if no one here knew it. Even if saying it out loud might one day be dangerous. The name lived in my bones, in my thoughts, in the quiet ache behind my ribs. I couldn’t just shed it like old skin and pretend it never existed.

I stared at the glass window of the coffee shop, catching a faint reflection of myself—tired eyes, drawn face, a woman who looked like she’d traveled too far in too little time. Whoever Mara was supposed to be, she didn’t look back at me from that glass.

Abby did.

And for now, that was the only thing I had left.

As I got to the counter, I ordered a latte, my voice sounding steadier than I felt. The barista moved with practiced ease, and soon a guy with a name tag that read Eddie placed the cup in front of me, the faint swirl of foam still settling on top.

“Thank you,” I said, sliding my card across and adding an extra tip without thinking too much about it.

Eddie glanced at the screen, then back at me, his smile widening into something cheeky and warm. “Oh, well, thank you,” he said, clearly pleased. His gaze drifted briefly to the box at my feet before returning to my face. “You new here?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” he said lightly. “I could help you settle in later if you want.” He paused, then added quickly, “By the way, my name’s Eddie. What’s yours?”

The question hit me harder than it should have. My mouth opened before my brain caught up. “Abby… Mara… uhmm—” I squeezed my eyes shut, heat rushing to my face as embarrassment washed over me.

Eddie laughed, not unkindly. “Well, take your time to decide.”

I let out a small, awkward smile and shook my head. “No, I don’t need to.” I inhaled, grounding myself. “It’s Abby. My name’s Abby.”

His smile didn’t fade. “Nice to meet you, Abby.”

“Likewise,” I said, my fingers tightening slightly around the cup. I glanced around the coffee shop—the low hum of conversation, the clinking of cups, the smell of coffee wrapping around me like something almost comforting. “So, you run this place by yourself?”

He shrugged. “My mom.”

I nodded slowly. “Ohh.”

“Yeah,” he said. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he asked, “So, would you like me to help you settle somewhere in this amazing city?”

I took a sip of my latte, the warmth spreading through my chest, and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Here for a vacay?” he asked.

I hesitated, my lips pressing together before I bit down lightly. “Yeah,” I said finally. “Something like that.”

“Okay, cool,” Eddie said easily. “Why don’t you sit somewhere and enjoy the ambiance? I’ll join you soon.”

“Definitely,” I replied.

I pulled my box toward a corner and settled into a seat away from the counter. The moment I sat down, I took another sip and let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The noise of the café faded into the background, replaced by a fragile sense of calm.

Eddie didn’t waste much time before bringing it up, almost like the thought had been sitting on his tongue since the moment he noticed the box at my feet. He wiped his hands on a towel, glanced around the café to make sure things were calm, then leaned closer and said it casually, as if he were offering directions to a bus stop.

“You know,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “my family house has enough room. Like… plenty of space. If you’re still figuring things out, you could stay there for a bit.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. The words didn’t register immediately. Stay there. With his family. My first instinct was to recoil—not because he seemed dangerous, but because I wasn’t used to people offering things without asking for something in return. Not anymore. Not after everything I’d been through.

“Oh,” I said softly, my fingers tightening around the cardboard edge of my box. “I—I wasn’t really expecting that.”

He shrugged, a little sheepish now. “Yeah, I know it sounds sudden. But my mom’s big on helping people, and we’ve had cousins, friends, friends-of-friends crash with us before. You look like you could use a soft landing.”

A soft landing.

The phrase hit something deep in my chest. I’d been bracing for impact for so long that I hadn’t even considered the idea of landing softly. I’d imagined cold apartments, anonymous rooms, silence so loud it would eat me alive. I’d prepared myself for loneliness, for punishment, for starting over the hard way because that was what I thought I deserved.

I looked down at my hands, at the faint tremor I hadn’t been able to control since New York. Nina’s voice echoed faintly in my head. Disappear. Never return. As if I were some mistake that needed erasing. As if I didn’t deserve warmth or kindness or a place where someone noticed if I came home late.

“Are you sure?” I asked quietly. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Eddie frowned slightly, like the word itself offended him. “You won’t be. Trust me. If anything, my mom will probably overfeed you and ask you a million questions.”

That almost made me laugh. Almost.

I hesitated longer than I should have, my mind running through every possible outcome—what if this was a mistake, what if I was being reckless again, what if trusting someone so easily came back to haunt me? But another thought followed, softer, more tired: what if saying no meant walking straight back into isolation I wasn’t sure I could survive?

I was exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. Down to my bones.

“…Okay,” I heard myself say. The word felt foreign, like a language I was relearning. “I’ll accept. At least for now.”

Eddie’s face lit up, relief clear in his eyes. “Yeah? Great. Seriously, you won’t regret it.”

I nodded, even though part of me was still bracing, still waiting for the catch. As we walked out together, the Perth sun warm against my skin, I felt that strange mix of fear and gratitude twist inside me. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe this was a fresh start.