He glanced up as I approached.
“Lumi,” he said, warmth threading through my name.
I stopped a few feet from his desk. Close enough to speak quietly. Far enough to feel like myself.
“Your lecture,” I said. “About return.”
His hands stilled. Not dramatically — just enough that I noticed.
“Yes?”
“The selkie,” I continued. “The way you framed it.” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “It sounded less like a warning and more like… permission.”
Vince studied me for a long moment. Not like a professor evaluating a student — like someone deciding how much truth a person could carry.
“Stories rarely warn us,” he said gently. “They explain us.”
I swallowed.
“Does it always feel like you’re losing something,” I asked, “even when you aren’t?”
Something softened in his expression. Not pity. Understanding.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Because change asks us to grieve the version of ourselves that no longer fits — even when the new one is stronger.”
That landed somewhere deep. Somewhere I hadn’t put words to yet.
“And the return?” I asked quietly.
Vince smiled, just a little. “Return isn’t about going back, Lumi. It’s about learning how to stand where you are now without apology.”
I nodded. The tightness in my chest eased — not gone, but manageable.
“Your perspective in class,” he added, gathering his papers again, “was thoughtful. Honest. Don’t sand it down for the sake of comfort. Yours or anyone else’s.”
“I won’t,” I said.
“I know.” His gaze held mine for a beat longer. “Rae sends her love.”
That did it. That small tether back to family, to safety.
“Thank you,” I said.
He inclined his head — a dismissal that wasn’t a dismissal.
I turned and walked out before the room could feel heavy again.
James was waiting for me in the corridor.
His large, warm hand settling at the small of my back like it had always lived there.
“Good talk with Tomlinson?” he asked.
“Yeah. He…” I searched for it. “He reminded me I don’t have to put myself back the way I was.”
James nodded once. “Good.”
He didn’t ask where I was going when the hall split. He felt it — the same pull curling low in my spine.
