Anastasia's POVSeven years later.The wheels of the plane touch down on the tarmac at Los Angeles International Airport, and my heart pounds with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Seven years! Seven years since I left this city as a broken woman with a newborn in my arms, fleeing a nightmare I thought would consume me.Now, I'm returning as someone else entirely."Mommy, are we here?" A small voice beside me asks, and I turn to look at my daughter, Mia.She's six years old now, with the same dark hair I have and striking blue eyes that mirror my own. But there's a sharpness in those eyes, an intelligence that sometimes startles me. She's far too perceptive for a child her age, seeing things most adults would miss."Yes, baby," I say, smoothing down her hair. "We're here.""Is this where you grew up?" she asks, pressing her face against the window to look at the city sprawling beyond the airport."Yes," I answer, the word heavy with memories I've tried to bury. "But it's different
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