Ivy tightened her grip on the steering wheel as the narrow, tree-lined road twisted ahead. She hadn't been back to this town in years, and yet, it looked exactly the same. The cobblestone streets, the antique-style lampposts, and the white picket fences—everything was still polished to perfection. Too perfect, she thought, as if the town had something to hide.
The welcome sign loomed ahead: "Welcome to Greystone Grove. Home of Elegance." Ivy let out a small, bitter laugh. Even the sign had an air of superiority.
She drove past rows of mansions, each more extravagant than the last. Their meticulously trimmed hedges and ornate gates were a stark contrast to the small house she and her mother used to live in at the edge of town. It wasn't a bad house—Ivy never thought of herself as poor—but it wasn't one of these houses. She always felt like an outsider, as though she'd been dropped into the wrong story.
The town square came into view, bustling with activity. Ivy slowed down, her eyes scanning the shops and cafés. She spotted the old bakery, now replaced by a sleek espresso bar, and the flower shop that still looked exactly as she remembered it. A strange sense of déjà vu settled over her.
It wasn't just the town that seemed frozen in time; it was the people too. Women in designer dresses walked in pairs, their laughter too loud, their smiles too sharp. Men in tailored suits carried briefcases, their conversations clipped and purposeful. They looked as though they belonged on the pages of a lifestyle magazine, not in the real world.
Ivy parked her car near the edge of the square and stepped out, the crisp air hitting her face. She stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the café, mingling with the faint smell of roses from the flower shop. It should have been comforting, but instead, it made her uneasy.
Walking down the street, she passed a group of teenagers laughing loudly. They reminded her of herself at that age, only with more expensive clothes and an air of entitlement she'd never had. Ivy looked away, her thoughts drifting back to her own high school years. She had been quiet, always observing, always on the edge of things.
Her footsteps slowed as she reached the old town theater. The grand building stood like a relic from another era, its marble façade gleaming in the sunlight. She remembered sneaking in once as a kid, watching a rehearsal from the balcony. That was one of the few times she'd felt like she belonged.
The sound of church bells broke her reverie. Ivy glanced at her watch. She'd been standing there too long, lost in memories. She turned and made her way back to the car, determined to shake off the unease that had settled over her.
As she started the engine and drove toward the outskirts of town, Ivy couldn't help but feel like the town was watching her, waiting for her to make a move. It wasn't just the familiarity of the place; it was something else. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
The house appeared in the distance—a modest two-story structure, dwarfed by the sprawling estates around it. Ivy parked in the gravel driveway and sat there for a moment, staring at the front door.
Home. It didn't feel like it anymore.
She grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath her feet. The air was colder here, or maybe it just felt that way. As she climbed the steps to the front porch, she glanced back at the road. For a moment, she thought she saw a figure standing at the end of the driveway, but when she blinked, it was gone.
Ivy shook her head and unlocked the door. Inside, the house smelled faintly of dust and old wood. She set her bag down in the hallway and stood there, listening to the silence.
It was going to be a long few weeks.
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