"Francis. Wake up! We're going to be late to the airport. Our flight leaves in an hour!"
Yvette's voice hits me before her hands do, shaking me hard enough that the mattress groans. I pry my eyes open, the blur of her face slowly sharpening as she hovers over me, hair frizzed from rushing and stress.
"I don't know why we have to go this spring..." I mumble, dragging the blanket over my head. "We've gone every year."
"You're like this every single time," she huffs, yanking the blanket away with a dramatic flourish. "Liana pays for everything. And we vowed to keep doing this after Dad died—remember?"
I sit up, the weight of her words settling over the room like dust.
Every year since we were two, our father's side of the family has flown us out to London for spring break. Back then, it felt magical—bright tulips pushing up through damp soil, gray skies that somehow made the city feel alive, the sense that we were part of something bigger than ourselves.
But lately? It's become Yvette's thing. Her ritual. Her excuse.
She met someone there four years ago—some guy who swept her into a long-distance romance that feels more like a fantasy she refuses to wake from. For the past two years, he's even flown her to London by herself. Sometimes I wonder if he's the only reason she gets so excited for these trips now.
With a sigh, I swing my legs out of bed and grab my suitcase from the corner. It's already packed; I'd done it half-heartedly the night before, more out of obligation than anticipation. All that's left is to pull myself together for another long, cramped flight across the ocean.
I set my suitcase by the door and start getting ready, moving slowly just to annoy her.
...
"Hurry up, Francis!"
"Yvette. Chill. We're going to make it."
"I know, I know—I'm just excited!" She practically vibrates with it, like she's trying to hold in a secret.
I roll my eyes as we finally board the plane, the stale cabin air hitting me like a reminder of everything I already expect.
Another spring. Another trip. Another boring break in London.
Here we go again.
