I woke up feeling tired and confused, unsure of where I was, not certain what had been a dream and what was reality.

Memory flashed, inviting a couple of tears in my eyes, of Vlad's whispered endearments landing on the tender skin just under my ear, making me shiver, the way he used to wake me up in the mornings. Of his arms holding me tight, pulling me closer as he told me not to worry, murmuring how much he loved me.

I pressed my face into the pillow for a few moments. Breathe. You mustn't cry. He didn't send you back here to spend the rest of your life wallowing in self-pity. You must do something... anything but cry.

Sitting up, I noticed that Anne had returned at some point. She was lying on top of her bed, sleeping, still fully dressed. Her shoulder-length, wavy, naturally light brown hair, a colour she considered boring, looked like a huge, crumpled flower as it lay fanned out around her head, streaked with highlights in different shades of pink.

Looking at her, I wondered what Katerina would say if I turned up in the castle with such a hairstyle. My old nurse. She, her safety, was one of the reasons I was back here.

My silent reverie was disturbed by a sudden but expected wave of nausea that made me run for the bathroom. At least there was a proper and warm bathroom here.

All these days, or was it weeks already, this... feeling sick but never actually throwing up... I mused as I brushed my teeth, then collected the rest of my things that were still laying around.

"Morning sickness?" Lia teased when I nearly bumped into her on my way out, her dark caramel eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter.

She was waiting for her turn, standing statue-still just behind the bathroom door. Of course, she was already dressed and ready to leave, her long, perfectly straight, platinum-blonde hair restrained in a neat, high ponytail. Not a single strand out of place, just the way she always wore it. There was no place for the unpredictable in Lia's life; she had everything planned out and under control. Like her hair.

"Of course not!" I whisper-shouted, not wanting Anne to wake up and join us in this conversation.

Whether this was morning sickness or not, it was my problem, and I didn't want to think about it right now. I had a year to think, worry, remember, and cry. Now was not the best moment.

"Whatever you say, best friend." She emphasized the last part of her retort, reminding me that I still owed her explanations. Making me feel bad for not telling her the truth. But how could I ever tell someone like Lia about what had happened to me?

"I'll tell you, Lia. Later. I need some time." I would definitely try to postpone the moment when I would make my best friend think I've gone completely crazy, as much as I could.

"Ok. Wake her up," she said, looking at Anne, still sleeping beatifically, "we need to be downstairs in twenty minutes so we have enough time for breakfast."

Once ready, the three of us descended the stairs together and, instructed by one of the waiters, left our luggage in the now empty Reception. We met the boys in the breakfast room, and Anne told me and Lia that she had organized our homeward trip already. Having found out that Mark and Lucas were booked on the same flight to London like us, she decided that we would all travel together.

She obviously liked one of them, but I couldn't quite see which... Not that I cared. Anne always liked someone. It never lasted more than a few weeks, so learning the new names and faces wasn't really worth the effort.

As we were exiting the small hotel, I looked back, one more time, to the empty reception desk. Alina must have finished her shift and gone home to her family, her husband. If only I could do the same.

I sighed, moving my luggage to my other shoulder as I walked down the small town's road, trailing behind my little, lively group towards a bus stop. It would be a long journey; it would take thirty minutes only to reach Brasov train station by bus...

"Give it to me, Merida, I'll carry it for you. That bag is bigger than you!" The taller one of the guys stopped, smiling broadly, waiting for me to catch up.

"No, thank you. I can handle it perfectly on my own." I said dryly. Hmm... I did not miss the modern manners at all.

I let Junior call me Human for a year, but, well, that was Junior. I didn't care for a nickname invented by this person. I didn't even know which one he was. However, he managed to pique my curiosity, I realised, angry at myself.

"Who would that Merida be, by the way?" I asked as he fell into step beside me.

"Don't tell me you don't know Merida, the Disney Princess. Short, ginger, medieval... Never heard of Brave? Well, my little sister has pictures of her everywhere and I tell you, you look like that lady." He grinned, his perfect white teeth flashing against his olive skin. Will I ever stop noticing people's teeth as the first thing?

I only shook my head, unimpressed. "I'm Samara. I'd appreciate it if you could use my name..."

"Fine, fine, as you like. Just let me carry your bag. You look... pale."

Thanks for reminding me, I thought, my stomach swimming. I wasn't feeling great at all.

Resigned, I let him take the luggage off my shoulder. At least we would walk faster. "So you are Mark. Or Lucas?" I asked as I reached inside my handbag, finally switching on my phone without taking it out.

"I'm Lucas. Shall we start again?" he asked, running his hand through his curly brown hair, his dark eyes looking at me curiously.

I didn't really care to be friendly with anyone right now, but I didn't want to be impolite either. My awful mood and situation wasn't his fault.

"Fine. I'm Sam. Not Merida. Please."

"Good, Sam. Samara is an interesting name," he said as my phone started to vibrate with notifications reminding me about missed calls and messages. There seemed to be a lot of them; at least I would have something to do during the three and a half hours long train journey to Bucharest.

Lucas continued chatting for the rest of our short walk, but I only half-listened to what he was saying. It turned out that he and Mark lived in a flat share in Hammersmith, London, like Lia and Anne. He had passed in front of the small bookshop where Anne and I worked many times on his way home from the tube station, but he never actually walked in... I only shook my head or nodded politely, hopefully at the right points of our 'conversation', trying to avoid his questions.

When we reached the stop, our bus was already there. We got on in silence and while I placed my large bag on the free seat next to me, pretending to be busy looking for something inside of it, Mark joined Anne somewhere at the back of the empty bus and Lia sat down next to Lucas.

Well, he would have to do with Princess Elsa, I thought, observing Lia's hair glitter and shine, as if it was frozen, in the cold morning's light streaming inside through not exactly pristine clean windows of the bus. I was not interested in the slightest in cheerful flirting and whatnot.

I was happy to spend the precious half hour of silence and solitude looking outside, catching the last glimpses of the castle towering high above the small town, trying to spot, unsuccessfully, other places I might recognize along the road. Slipping my left hand inside my handbag, I clutched my book, letting my fingers travel along the edge of Vlad's note hidden among its pages. I was surprised and even proud of myself that I hadn't started crying yet, but I could feel it was only a question of time before I would fall apart. Just feeling the diamond ring on my finger, so heavy and unsuitable in this time and place, was bringing painful pangs to my heart. What am I doing here? What will I do?

We reached the station and bought our tickets at the last moment, having to run to the correct platform through a maze of dark, empty, and smelly underground passages. Was my sense of smell always this sharp? This time, I let Lucas take my bag without objections. If I had to carry it myself, we would definitely miss the train.

Unfortunately, on the crowded train, we all ended up closed in what appeared to be one of the last free compartments, and I knew I would be expected to socialize sooner or later. There was no place to hide here.

Putting on a brave face I got myself the window seat and after we organized our luggage and my four companions got momentarily lost in their continued conversation from the bus, I finally took out the phone and started reading my messages.

"Oh, William!" I said aloud, forgetting that I was not alone when I noticed that all the seven texts and three missed calls were from him. Did he not break up with me a month ago? We haven't met or called each other since. What did he want now?

"Your fiancé must be missing you," Lucas, who was sitting next to me, said, his eyes falling first to the screen of my phone, then fixating on my ring, as if he had just noticed it for the first time.

I turned it around, hiding the stone in my palm. I didn't want anyone looking at it or asking about it. But I was not taking it off. Never.

"Just her ex-boyfriend really, am I right, Sam?" Lia asked, jumping over the tangle of legs filling the narrow space between the seats of the compartment and sitting in the free seat opposite of me. She was most probably thinking that I got engaged to William at some point secretly, without telling her, I realised. Oh, Lia.

"Yes, Lia, William is still my ex-boyfriend," I emphasized. "I don't understand why he wants to meet me now."

"Maybe he changed his mind and wants another chance?" she continued, casting a sidelong, inconspicuous glance at Lucas. "You should definitely meet him."

She was trying to bore Lucas out of our conversation so we could talk freely. Clever girl. It worked. After having listened to a few more of our exchanged lines, the young man took a tablet and earphones from his backpack and became oblivious to our boyfriend chatter in no time.

Anne and the blue-eyed, blonde Mark were lost in each other on the other side of the compartment. They were absorbed in a lively conversation about his tattoos, and it became obvious that he had many of them when he removed his black hoodie to show off his ink covered biceps.

"They'll be busy for a while," Lia half-whispered. "We can talk."

"But, Lia..." I looked at her, my eyes pleading. I was not ready to talk about Vlad. My heart gave a painful pang, refusing even just to think his name, let alone saying it aloud.

"No, I'm not asking you about the castle and your mysterious guide; you'll tell me that when you are ready. Just tell me what's up with William."

I took a deep, calming breath. Good, I can do this. I didn't mind talking about William.

"He says he wants me to call him, and meet me when I'm back. Apparently, he came to look for me in the shop and didn't find me there. And when he couldn't reach me on the mobile phone, he called my landline. Mum told him that I was on holiday."

"But what does he want? Didn't he leave you for that Kate?"

"He most definitely did." Despite my mood, I had to giggle.

William was a young actor, the shining star of the moment of a small, local theatre in Hammersmith. I met him two years ago when he came to buy a play script in The Theatre Bookshop where I used to work at the weekends while I studied at the university. Where I still worked, but full time, even now.

He kept coming to see me during the busiest hours, driving my boss mad, until I agreed to go out with him.

William was gentle, nice, amusing, and loved theatre even more than I did. Soon after we had met, I was sure that I was in love with him.

The only thing I disliked about William was how proud he was about his looks. With his not very thick, bright hair, a pair of baby-blue eyes, and full rosy lips curled in a permanent half-smile, he was a near perfect lookalike of Prince William, and he knew it. The throng of young girls trailing behind him, us, whenever we left the theatre after the performances, hoping to attract his attention or take a picture with him, got, well, annoying after some time. To me, at least.

Then, a new actress joined the theatre, a girl whose name happened to be Kate. She, soon after getting the role of Juliet alongside William, in the Shakespeare's play, dyed her long blonde hair dark brown, making William notice, and believe, that she looked similar enough to the 'real' Kate. And as Romeo fell for Juliet on stage, William found his Kate in real life.

Somehow, it didn't bother me at all. I just didn't care. The infatuation I had mistaken for love at the beginning of our relationship, instead of growing, dissipated over time like bubbles from a glass of champagne. When William told me that he fell in love with another girl, that he didn't love me anymore, I simply let him go, realising that I was still with him only out of habit. Or because I didn't want to be the first one to abandon our sinking ship.

Shaking my head to disperse my memories, I looked out of the window at the changing, unfamiliar countryside. It was flashing into view momentarily, then disappearing in a blur behind the glass, the short-lived images seemingly synchronized with the monotonous chugging of the speeding train.

My relationship with William seemed so distant, unreal, as if it had never happened. The same as my other relationship.

"Do you think she broke up with him? Or did he just realise that he still loves you?" Lia asked, scrambling my rambling thoughts and bringing me back to reality.

"I don't really care, Lia," I said while typing my response to William. "I'm not meeting him. What for? It's over between us."

"But..."

"There's no but," I said as my phone buzzed with his immediate reply, asking me to change my mind. "No, thank you." I read aloud for Lia's benefit as I typed, "I don't want to meet you. Take care."

I sent the message, then switched the phone off. I would use Lia's to call my mum from the airport.