❝and if you're gone tomorrow, what was ours still will be.❞
There has been rarely a moment where tragedy has not riddled Lydia Nowack's life. The invasion of Poland, her homeland, killed her maternal grandparents. The very first night of the Blitz...
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☾ ☽
The opportunity arose to study in New York near the end of that year. It came courtesy of a student exchange program that Lydia almost didn't apply for, and only did when her family convinced her. Her application was accepted for the next semester starting that January for six months, and the next thing she had known, she was standing in the heart of New York City.
Seeing Edmund that day was the first time she had seen him in person since he had left. They'd spoken on the telephone, written so many letters and sent photographs with them, but he hadn't been back to England since moving. Lydia had been so happy to see him, and he so happy to see her, that she had launched herself at him and embraced him tighter than she ever had before when she saw him waiting for her.
(Lucy had been with him and went largely unnoticed until she cleared her throat, at which point both Lydia and Edmund turned pink before Lydia embraced her as well, happy to see her after a year.)
About three months had passed since then, which made it now mid-March. Lydia had settled somewhat nicely into life in the city that never sleeps, but it still seemed another world to her. Things were far different here than what she was used to in Cambridge or even London. Somehow she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that there was something wrong.
On this day, it was still a bit chilly outside for the date Lydia and Edmund were meant to be going on, so she wore a coat and a scarf. She stood outside the door of Peter's flat, which he shared with his girlfriend (and now fiancée, a recent development that had just happened that past week) Genevieve. Edmund had told her to meet him here because he and Peter had a chess match to finish.
Lydia raised her hand and knocked twice on the door, waiting patiently for it to be answered. It was after a few moments by Genevieve, who greeted Lydia with a characteristic warm smile, "Good morning, Lydia. How are you?"
"I'm well, thank you," said Lydia in return, that awful feeling of dread back in the pit of her stomach for no discernible reason. She set it aside. "And you?"
"I'm well," echoed Genevieve. The woman had been terribly kind to Lydia, and likely everyone else she'd ever met, since she arrived in the city and met her. Genevieve was lovely to be around, even if for just a moment like today. She turned. "Edmund, Lydia's here."
Edmund came into view a few seconds later, followed by Peter behind him, tying his scarf around his neck. His bag hanging off his shoulder. He gave Lydia a smile as he stepped past Genevieve to join her outside the door. Peter said, "You may have won this round, Ed, but I'll get you next time."
Edmund chuckled lowly and replied, "We'll see, Pete. It was good to see you, Genevieve."
The couple bid them goodbye after that as the door was closed. Lydia and Edmund headed out together for their date—the destination of which still unknown to Lydia—hand-in-hand, and Lydia inquired knowingly, "Another win for you, I take it?"
