The quiet comfort of the weekend melts by in a blur of simple family warmth. Surrounded by my parents and my brother back in the cozy shelter of my own apartment, the days feel entirely normal. Each night, as I drift off to sleep, my consciousness seamlessly slips across the veil, carrying me back to the grand Valerius estate as Eleanor.
Yet, over those couple of nights in the fantasy realm, something feels undeniably different.
The Duke and Orlando are wrapped up in a whirlwind of absolute secrecy and non-stop business. They barely cross paths with me, constantly rushing in and out of the estate, their minds weighed down by heavy, unspoken planning. A distinct, palpable tension hangs in the air of the mansion, humming quietly beneath the polished floors and high ceilings. You don't need magical powers to sense it; the entire household is bracing for something big.
And then, right in the middle of it all, an unexpected gift arrives.
It is another letter from Arthur, accompanied by a lavish, oversized bouquet of flowers sent to congratulate me on my "recovery." The arrangement is a blinding explosion of vibrant, hyper-saturated colors like brilliant reds and electric pinks meant to catch the eye and scream luxury.
As Eleanor, I suppose I am supposed to swoon over them. But deep down, beneath the layers of noble heritage, the truth is that I'm not Eleanor.
I'm Sara, and I can't bring myself to actually like them.
Standing there in the sitting room, looking down at the brilliant arrangement, a quiet pang of sadness mixes with my discomfort. I've always hated the idea of plucking flowers from their living branches just to satisfy human vanity. Flowers are a tree's natural treasures; cutting them down, watching them slowly wither in a glass vase just for a fleeting moment of aesthetic pleasure, always feels a bit cruel.
At the same time, a strange, complicated flutter touches my chest. In my real, everyday life back in the modern world, nobody has ever sent me a grand bouquet of flowers like this. It is a romantic gesture, a token of attention. So, part of me feels a twinge of appreciation, tangled awkwardly with the lingering guilt over the severed stems.
Still, under the watchful eyes of the estate staff, I can't just throw them out or reject Arthur's "kindness" without raising political conflict. I accept the bouquet, have Lily place them in a vase, and dutifully pen a short, polite reply. 'Thank you for the flowers. I am recovering well, so please don't worry about me. Make sure to take care of yourself while you're busy.'
Aside from that brief interruption, the rest of the weekend passes in relative quiet across both dimensions.
Before I know it, Saturday night bleeds into Monday morning.
The alarm clock buzzes with its familiar, jarring ring in my real-world apartment. I wake up to a normal, unmagical morning, going through the well-worn motions of getting ready for the office. Everything feels steady and mundane, almost as if the past week's chaos, both in the hospital and across the another world has been nothing more than a weird dream.
Stepping through the glass doors of my office building, I feel the usual morning chill of the air conditioning. Almost immediately, my colleagues and boss glance up from their desks, their expressions softening as they notice me walking in. My boss steps out of his office, walking over to check in on my condition...
My boss gives me an encouraging nod, walking over with a warm smile. "Glad to see you back, Sara. Just take it easy today and don't push yourself too hard, alright?"
"Thank you, I will," I reply, smiling back.
The first day back at the office is a whirlwind. My schedule is packed tight to make up for lost time, and because I am eager to prove I am fully recovered, I throw myself into the workload. I try to pace myself, but by the time evening rolls around and I finally step out into the cool air for my home, a heavy wave of exhaustion drags at my limbs.
Figures, I think tiredly as I unlock my apartment door. After spending days resting in a hospital bed and lounging at home, my stamina has completely bottomed out.
After a quick change into comfortable dress, a refreshing wash, and a chaotic dinner with my parents , I finally collapse onto my bed. The moment my eyes close, the familiar pull takes hold, and I drift off, slipping seamlessly back into the other world as Eleanor.
Just as before, the atmosphere in the Valerius mansion is unusually quiet and strained. The Duke and Orlando are entirely consumed by their secret planning, nowhere to be seen. Left completely to my own devices with no one around to supervise or chaperone, a sudden wave of restless boredom washes over me.
Strolling out through the grand double doors into the sprawling estate gardens, I stare at the vibrant rows of meticulously trimmed hedges and colorful flower beds. Remembering how I had quietly critiqued Arthur's bouquet earlier, a sudden, mischievous impulse sparks in my chest.
Since there's no stern older brother or watchful Duke around to scold Eleanor right now... why not see how things actually work around here?
Instead of acting like a proper, refined noble lady, I decide to throw decorum out the window. Abandoning the paved walkways, I wade right into the flower beds, crouching down to examine the soil and even attempting to help a nearby gardener to remove the weed.
"M-My Lady! You mustn't soil your dress! Please, step away from the dirt!" a flustered maid shrieks, rushing over with her hands thrown up in panic, frantically trying to pull me away.
"Oh, relax, let me just fix this root," I mutter, completely ignoring protocol as I play in the dirt like a kid on a recess break, doing things no high-society heiress would ever dare to do.
With no one around to restrain 'Eleanor', the afternoon quickly devolves into a delightfully chaotic mess of unladylike adventures, giving the mansion staff a heart attack and giving Sara a strange, liberating thrill of absolute freedom.