My first thought, as I gazed down at the rapidly descending airport, was uncontrollable relief: Heathrow Airport had provided me with an escape from the painfully superficial life I had been living for the past few years.

Inside the plane, I was surrounded by couples. Most were young with families, and a few were elderly, which I unfathomably found comfort in.

With regards to myself, the love life I have always been yearning for was non-existent. Perhaps, in the eyes of all men, I was simply not alluring enough to get to second base with.

A family is a joyous type of plan I have found myself wishing for ever since I was all but 18. However, the only thing I have been longing for more than that is a significant other. I needed someone who knew how to love someone like me unconditionally. I have yet to find myself in a passionate relationship.

My mind churned thinking of my biological family's reaction; the parents who had wanted me to stay alone and glued to their side for the remainder of the unforeseeable future. It was only more reason to break out from the clutches of my family's protectiveness and strike out on my own. The whole point of this move had very little to do with having a better career. Unlike the opinion of others, I myself believed that teaching was an impactful job, one that bettered the future generation of children. Money was only significant for basic human needs, as well as having a decent enough house to reside in.

There was only one reason for my desire for a fresh start... love. Finding that "perfect" someone was never that simple for me. I have devoted myself towards earning a teaching degree and pleasing the family for my own sake and theirs, so it was my own fault for never giving any passing stranger the time of day. Frankly, I've had quite enough of putting someone else before me.

I had barely registered the plane's landing. My cluster of thoughts had kept me occupied. I sprung out of my seat more widely than I had planned. Paying no mind to the onlookers giving me strange looks, I lifted my suitcase and joined the line forming to be freed from the stuffy method of transport. My brain only concentrated on the impending event of me walking my very first steps into Heathrow.

********

As soon as everyone had disbanded, my feet leaped from their strained walking position, and I dashed like an unhinged maniac towards the exit of the airport. My choice of clothing turned out to be poor when the weather came into view. The translucent-paned windows of the airport were heavily stained by raindrops. I had taken a chance with the weather as well as deciding on a sleeveless white crop-top and a pair of ribbon-tied shorts. But as of then, that was only a minor hindrance to me.

I was in Heathrow by myself, which was exactly how I had wanted it to begin. The next phase of my excitement was reaching the cabin I had rented out online.

Stepping out into the chilly, butchering weather of England was the most euphoric feeling I had  experienced in a long time. I allowed the rain to swallow my carefully brushed fawn hair, tied up in a loose bun until it was soaked to the brim. Eventually, I realised that my euphoria would quickly transform into hypothermia if I stayed there like a frozen popsicle for much longer.

Seeing a slick-black vehicle coming to a halt in front of me, my wettened face unveiled a casual smile as I slipped inside along with my suitcase.

My meek voice mumbled: "Staines-upon-Thames, Surrey, Yellow Iris cottage." The driver in front of me nodded but didn't utter a single word to which I was content with, and rested my head against the black-leather seat. The view speeding across my eyes was remarkable. I never had the privilege of seeing new places or countries outside of living in the countryside in Winslow, Arizona.

That realisation dawned on me at just that moment. It briefly boiled frustration inside of me. Why was I forced to be cooped up like a helpless animal?

The taxi had slowed down, which made me hopeful that our arrival at the cottage would be soon, if not now. In any case, I already took out my checkered pink purse and searched for my credit card. The money from the bank was all being supplied by my parents.

They knew how much I despised it, not having my own money. Every family member had always insisted on fussing over me, as if I couldn't gain dependence on my own. My timing was coincidentally on-point, as I was startled to glance up and find out that I had reached my destination. After having paid for the trip, I absconded from the vehicle and stepped out onto the pavement. I certainly had not expected the cottage to be as enormous as it was. There was a note attached to the triangular-shaped house in front of the rustic one. My feet almost instantly unraveled across the freshly mowed grass.

Silently, my thoughts were racing in circles as I made it to the glass-paned door and turned on the handle.

My peripheral vision was met with a quaint yet comfortable living room. Several cushioned sofas were spread throughout the living room, with the main one in the centre.

A circular coffee table situated in the central part of the rustic carpet sat naturally with an intertwined plant. To the left was a classic-sized TV on top of a white ruffle-styled shelf with a clutter of vintage vases and decor, facing the wide-spread photograph at the very back of the room, capturing the beauty of a palm tree looking out across an aquatic ocean. It was a rather lucid but cushy area of the house, which I loved. I presumed the back doors led either to a bathroom or the kitchen. My ravenous hunger had already crawled into my belly, but I ignored it, wishing to explore every nook and cranny of the cottage.

I was correct in my assumption of the kitchen being adjacently attached to the living room. Entering through the doors, it only dazzled me further. A wooden table in the heart of the room was so clearly effortlessly placed with two carved chairs. 

The kitchen was of compact size, with three glass cabinets on the left; satisfactory enough for my taste. I had no need for a large-scale kitchen, so long as there was enough room to cook and clean. Directly above my eyeline was a singular shelf littered with effervescent plants, revealing the cutlery and the dishes were hoisted up beside the rectangular-carved hearth. I made my way towards the window pane in the corner.

I had expected the cottage to be secluded, so I was slightly taken aback by the more extensive cottage that appeared before my eyes. Either I had a neighbour, or the cottage was built there long ago and there were no residents currently inside. Regardless, I shrugged and turned my attention back to the house, still impatient to explore the rest of the rooms.

I walked back casually towards the living room with a set of dark oak, winding stairs coming into view and what I guessed led towards the bedroom and bathroom. Beside it lay the attic, hidden behind a miniscule white door.

On the first floor, the main entrance to the bedroom was left slightly ajar, revealing the sole sleeping area of the entire cottage. Inside was a square-shaped, spacious bed with a ruffled mattress and a wooden frame. Just above it, covering a large portion of the wall, revealed yet another photograph. 

This time, it seemed to introduce a period-piece setting. Besides it, the golden rays of sunlight simmered through the fragile glass of the window pane. An array of books was placed above the white drawer meant for clothing. Overall, the room looked simplistic, but perhaps that was because it wasn't filled with my belongings or collectibles. Moving on to the bathroom flustered me even more with adoration. 

A rounded mirror on the left stood above the sink. I felt drawn to the vase of sunflowers, as if it was the only thing in the room. Two more checkered window panes towered above the bathtub, at which I furrowed my brows out of concern for its size. How was I supposed to clean myself properly in that? Regardless, it would have to make do as it was the only bathroom in the house.

**************

As soon as I unpacked most of my belongings, I knew I had to find someplace to eat since grocery shopping hadn't yet made its way onto my to-do list. Because there was literally no food or beverages in any part of the Yellow Iris cottage, there was not much of a choice.

As I left the house and locked the door behind me, my gaze once again fell on the cottage behind mine. 

I could not make out any shape or sound, which would indicate someone's presence inside. *Maybe they've gone out*  I thought nonchalantly.

Making my way across the side-walk, half the time I was staring at the Google Maps screen; hoping for once it wouldn't fath around and actually show me the correct direction towards the nearest coffee shop.

Every street I passed through was already filled with the hustle and bustle of residents going about their daily lives, despite it being evening already.

With my feet starting to turn sore from aimlessly wandering around, my first thought in a while was estimating whether this town even had a coffee shop. It then came to me that I hadn't a clue how to get back home.

My phone was on 20% and it would likely die before I found any remotely located place to eat.

I had almost decided on giving up and turning back home, hungry as well as famished, before my eyes scanned over and paused at the sight of a painted blue building. The top was labelled: 'number 5' along with the words: 'cafe OPEN', which at this point was enough to drive me towards the door within 5 seconds.

Elizabeth has finally arrived in Heathrow! What or may I ask who will she meet inside that coffee store?....

Author's NOTE: Thank you for reading the first chapter of my novel! Apologies if it seems boring, as it is only the introductory chapter of the main protagonist. I promise the next chapters after this will be much more thrilling! Comments, Votes, and Constructive Criticism are all greatly appreciated :)