Chapter Text
And I don’t wanna learn another scent
I don’t want the children of another man
To have the eyes of the girl I won’t forget
September, 2005.
Vi was running late for work, she just didn’t know it yet.
She woke up without a care in the world, after all, her alarm hadn’t gone off. It was her first day as an elementary school art teacher at Hampstead Oak and, eager to make a good impression on the principal, she had set her alarm for 6 a.m. Her class started at 8:00, and the school was only about a fifteen-minute drive from her apartment.
So, six in the morning seemed more than enough time to wake up slowly, have breakfast and get ready without rushing.
One small detail she didn’t realize until she grabbed her phone after stretching in bed was a rookie mistake: Vi had forgotten to turn the sound on before going to sleep. It was already 7:50 a.m., her alarm had been blaring silently for nearly two hours and six missed calls were waiting for her in the notifications.
“Shit” she yelled, springing out of bed and tangling herself in the sheets as she did, leaving the rumpled bedsheets and covers on the floor to deal with later.
Vi dashed to the bathroom, setting a personal record of five minutes for her entire morning routine of using the toilet, washing her hands and face, and brushing her teeth. Five minutes later, she was dressed: black slacks, a gray long-sleeve top and ankle boot —, because the winter in London wasn’t exactly forgiving.
Her phone rang again, “Loris” flashed across the screen. Vi answered, pinning it between her ear and shoulder as she hurried to grab a protein drink from the fridge and her car keys.
“I know” she said, skipping any greeting. “My alarm didn’t go off.”
“Your class is starting right now, Vi. Are you still at home?” the man grumbled on the other end.
“I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops” she lied, even though she knew it would take at least fifteen. “Has the class gone in yet?”
“Yeah. And Heimerdinger’s in there with them, waiting to introduce the new teacher.”
“Fuck” she muttered, a cold shiver running down her spine at the mention of the principal. With everything she needed in hand (breakfast, keys, and her bag with lesson plans), she rushed out of the apartment and took the stairs two at a time. “Stall for me, please. I promise I’ll be there soon.”
“Ugh” Loris sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell the principal you had an emergency and that I’ll keep your students busy until you get here. You owe me one.”
“I know” Vi allowed herself a small smile as she unlocked the car and dropped into the driver’s seat. “Thanks, Loris.”
She hung up, slid the key into the ignition and turned it. Although, instead of the familiar roar of the engine coming to life, she was met with a weak rattling and flickering dashboard lights.
“No” Vi tapped the steering wheel, frustration rising. “Come on, hunk of junk, don’t you dare break down on me now.”
She tried again. And again. Each time the same result: a weaker growl, a purr even, and a car that refused to start. Vi let her head fall into her hands, tugging at her hair in near self-punishment.
She texted Loris “I’ll have to owe you way more than one. My just car broke down. I’ll run later, but I’ll make it.”
————
After being rejected by every taxi number she had saved, checking that the nearest bus wouldn’t arrive for another hour and spending a few more desperate minutes trying to revive her car, Vi was forced to take drastic measures to avoid missing her first day: she’d have to use her bicycle.
Even with the winter cold biting at the city, Vi worried about sweating from the effort, so she changed into workout clothes: sweatpants and an oversized shirt over a sports bra. Needless to say, she now carried a bag larger than she planned, packed with a change of clothes for teaching, a towel for a quick shower in the school gym and all the materials she needed for the day.
With anxiety acting as a kind of pre-workout, Vi made the trip in thirty minutes — the clock read 8:48 when she finally arrived.
She already knew the layout, since she was interviewed there during the school break and Heimerdinger had given her a tour then, so she headed straight for the locker room near the gym. She rinsed off quickly, just enough to get rid of the thin layer of sweat she built up. After coating herself with more deodorant than possibly recommended by health organizations, she got dressed, silently thanking the building’s heating system.
Satisfied enough with her look, she dropped her bag in the teacher’s lounge. A smile spread across her face when she spotted a sticky note on one of the metal lockers saying “Vi, welcome to the team!”
She finally stood in front of the door from the first classroom that would be hers for the year, the seventh-grade class. She took a deep breath, smoothed her hair one last time, knocked softly and stepped inside.
“Good morning” she greeted with a shy smile as she closed the door behind her.
“Well, class, your new teacher is here” Loris said, clapping his hands once before getting up from the desk at the far end of the room. As the students looked up, he gestured toward her. “This is Miss Violet Lanes. She’ll be teaching you this subject this year. Be nice to her. You can hand your essays to her when you’re done.”
“Hi, everyone” Vi gave a small wave, her fingers tingling with nerves of introducing herself for a bunch of preteens. “You can just call me Vi.”
A few students murmured greetings before returning to their papers. Vi raised an eyebrow and turned to Loris.
“Don’t worry” he whispered, barely audible, with an amused smile. “This is an advanced class. In simple terms? Nerds who are eager to hand in anything you assign. When you said you’d be late, I asked them to write an essay on their holidays to introduce themselves to you.”
“Alright” Vi nodded, watching the bowed heads of her new students.
“They’re a great group” he added, squeezing her shoulder lightly. “They won’t cause you any trouble. You still have a good 50 minutes before ten, it might be enough time to chat with them after they’re done. When the bell rings, wrap up and head to your next one. I believe the principal should’ve sent you your schedule by now, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to call. Good luck, Vi.”
“Thanks, Loris.”
He left, leaving her alone with the kids, and Vi exhaled, sitting at the desk in the corner, quietly observing the room. Loris had been the one to recommend her for the job — she couldn’t have been more grateful for it.
Everything had happened so fast.
A month and a half ago, she had been living in the U.S., teaching at a small school in her neighborhood and struggling to keep her late father’s bar running. The Last Drop had survived for years thanks to Vander’s loyal customers and his unmatched charisma. Loyalty didn’t pass down through generations, though, and, as the regulars faded away, so did the business. It wasn’t paying enough to cover her bills. Piled with working a second job, her sister living too far away to help, and no means to hire a manager, Vi had already been coming to terms with closing it.
The idea had first come up three years earlier — one year after Vander’s death —, when Powder received a job offer in Greece to continue her stem cell research with a renowned scientist, Viktor. She had warned Vi the bar wouldn’t survive on its own.
Vi had resisted the idea back then, until last month.
It was the first time The Last Drop ran negative. Until then, the business didn't generate profit, but it was at the very least self-sustainable. Then, when Vi had to use part of her salary as a teacher (which wasn’t exactly great) to cover the extra expenses, she realized that perhaps the time had come to shut it down for good. Even if it meant saying goodbye to the last living memory of Vander she had.
Almost like fate, just when she came to terms with the fated end of the establishment, she saw on her social media that Loris was spending a week of his vacation in Las Vegas. Accepting the distraction of a four-hour trip on the weekend, she texted him and arranged a meeting in the city.
They had been close friends since college, bonding over being the oldest in their class. When he heard about the bar, he immediately offered her the open teaching position at his school in Europe, knowing she had the necessary qualifications. Loris pitched it as a fresh start, like a change of scenery for her life — which, honestly, wasn’t looking very promising at the moment.
After a few days of thinking, she agreed.
And just like that, within a month, Vi had sold the bar and her car to move to London. She rents a comfortable apartment and financed a new car, thanks to a salary nearly three times what she used to earn. So far, she liked the city and had great expectations for the routine she was building.
Lost in thought, Vi blinked when she noticed a line forming at her desk, where students were waiting to hand in their essays. A glance at the clock told her it was ten minutes to the end of her class. No time for chatting with the kids, then.
“Thank you” she repeated with a warm smile, almost automatically, as each preteen handed her their paper. “Thank you so much.”
It was when the third-to-last student in line stood in front of her, after carefully placing yet another essay on top of the pile, that Vi completely lost her ability to speak as her eyes lay on the girl.
The girl looked about twelve or thirteen. Two things stood out immediately: her long, perfectly straight hair, falling almost to her waist in a dark, blue-black shade under the classroom lights, and her eyes. Slightly almond-shaped and a striking, vivid blue. Her nose was delicately upturned, her lips thin and pressed into a tense line.
Vi noticed that she was still holding the paper outstretched, waiting for her to take it. She felt her cheeks flush slightly with embarrassment at having been paralyzed just seconds before, and, snapping out of a trance, she picked it up.
Just to be sure, she glanced at the header, searching for the child's name — not that she needed it to know the truth. Those were features Vi would never forget. Even so, seeking confirmation, she held her breath as she read “Melissa Kiramman” on the page.
“Thank you” Vi managed to say, her voice unsteady.
The girl gave a small, closed-lip smile, and there it was. Vi could see Caitlyn Kirraman in her: in the restraint of the smile, in the slight tilt of her head as a respectful nod. Even in the way she turned on her heels and walked back to her seat, light and composed.
How could Vi not see it? The little girl was her mother’s mirror.
Of course Vi recognized her instantly. Caitlyn’s face was etched into her memory, along with the sound of her laughter and the vanilla scent of the shampoo she used. Although time washed away the details, like an image blurred, Vi refused to forget the picture of her. Even if it all seemed like it happened in a past life by now.
Caitlyn Kiramman had been — still was? She truly couldn't tell — the love of her life. Even after over than twenty years without contact, Vi couldn’t stop the hitch in her breath, the weight settling in her chest as reality hit her: Caitlyn had a daughter.
Caitlyn built a family.
She built a family without her.
Vi swallowed hard, forcing down the familiar ache — the one she recognized as her heart breaking all over again for Caitlyn. Well, she felt this same pain a long time ago and never felt she had fully recovered from that. Even though she had become almost an expert in ignoring the overwhelming suffering that struck her whenever she thought of the girl in these years after the breakup, she didn’t expect this to hurt so much.
She hadn't imagined that her heart would race at the mere reminder of Caitlyn's existence in the world. She hadn't expected that she still had space inside herself to grieve again the inevitable truth she had faced long ago: Caitlyn had move on with her life without her. Obviously, Vi got word of the woman’s marriage years ago and that she probably had children, but she couldn't have foreseen how different the pain of witnessing it is from merely imagining it. To see, not just imagine, the life she had built.
She should have known better. Should have remembered that merely hearing about it wasn’t the same as witnessing, especially since she experienced it before. It seems she didn't learn anything from the past so far, after all.
How cruel could the universe possibly be for the fact that moving to London — taking the job Loris offered — had led her here? To be the teacher of Caitlyn Kiramman’s daughter?
With her heart pounding harder than it had after biking six and a half kilometers at full speed, Vi accepted the last two essays, tightened the stack and slipped it into her bag.
The bell rang.
“I’m sorry for being late today, everyone,” she said brightly. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you. See you next week!”
Before leaving the room for her next class, she couldn't help but steal one last glance at the little girl, the spitting image of the woman she had loved so deeply: in her chair, Melissa has a perfect posture and her ankles crossed, which was something painfully familiar. Something she had seen Caitlyn do countless times.
Swallowing the surge of emotion threatening to tear her apart, Vi turned away and walked past the doorway.