After a short night of sleep, Tris and Tobias were up and preparing for the next event - hosting a reception for their staff, friends, and their families.

Roza's niece, Yeta, and her family arrived first. She introduced Tris to her husband Aleksander and baby Elira while Edon was busy jabbering with Tobias.

"Zonjushë Anglisht!" Edon suddenly yelled, wiggling to get out of Tobias' arms.

Tobias smiled broadly as he set the little boy on the floor. Edon bolted to Tris, and she bent down just in time to catch him in her arms.

"Let's go!" Edon called.

"Let's go!" Tris repeated, hugging the five-year-old.

Edon began speaking rapid-fire to his parents in Albanian. Tris caught a word here and there, but the child was too excited and spoke too quickly for her to catch most of it. Instead, she just enjoyed the little boy's enthusiasm and affectionate hugs.

For the first half hour of the party, Edon followed Tris around. He held her hand and chatted about preschool, swimming in Tobias' pool, and his baby sister. Tris played along, listening and reacting as well as she could with the help of Tobias, Rebekah, Amar, and Edon's family.

When some of the other staff arrived, Roza distracted Edon by taking him to the kitchen for a snack so Tris could visit with other guests.

"Should I be worried?" Tobias asked as Edon stopped to wave at Tris one last time on his way through the kitchen door.

Tris turned to her fiance with a smile that matched his own. "He is cute," she teased. "Must be the name and that dark hair."

.

Tris and Tobias made the rounds chatting with their guests. Two servers, a bartender, and a caterer had been hired for the all-day affair. An elaborate buffet was set out in the grand dining room. The entire staff of the estate was there, along with their families and others from the local village. From early afternoon until long after sunset, people came and went. They enjoyed Tobias' generous hospitality, but their primary goal was to meet Tris.

She wore an emerald green belted shirt dress with short sleeves, and a pair of strappy black Louboutin pumps. The only jewelry she wore was the diamond tennis bracelet and stud earrings that Tobias had given her, and her engagement ring. Her hair was half up, and it wasn't long before she found herself wishing that she had gone with a braid or updo, because the house got warm with so many people milling about.

Tobias bragged to everyone about the desserts that Tris and Roza had made together, and encouraged his guests to try them. He talked about her education and family, and the things they had seen on their travels together.

"What part of the business is your family in?" one of the part-time grounds crew asked in careful English.

"My father isn't in business," Tris tried to explain. "He's a minister for the fire department, and my mother helps the poor get food."

The grounds crewman and other listeners around them seemed to be either incredulous or having trouble with the English, so Tobias explained more thoroughly in Albanian. After a few minutes of back and forth conversation that Tris only caught in pieces, Tobias explained the confusion.

"Muslim clergy get married and have children," he said, "so no one is surprised by a priest with a family. But they were confused about your father being the minister for just the fire department. I had to explain how large Chicago is, how they handle the on-call lifestyle, and also how your father doubles as a counselor and advisor for the firefighters. I'm not sure I got it all right, but they understand now. I think a few are still having trouble with the idea that you're not from wealthy business circles. They think we're joking or something."

"It's true," Tris said to their employees. "Five of my family's house could fit inside this one. I didn't have a car until recently. I worked at a coffee shop and took out loans to go to the university. My family is not wealthy, but my parents love us and took good care of us. My childhood probably had more in common with yours than Tobias'."

Someone translated for those who didn't speak English, and Tris noticed a mixture of reactions. Some still eyed her with disbelief, while others softened and seemed to accept her more warmly once they understood.

"Lule wants to know if Chicago is in a cold part of America," Jorik said, translating for one of the cleaning girls.

"In the winter, yes," Tris said. "Summers are hot and humid. Winters are cold with snow. Autumn is the most beautiful, when all the leaves turn bright colors."

The assistant groundskeeper translated, and Lule smiled shyly at Tris. Tris returned the smile.

"Po mesoj te flas shqip," Tris said. "Më vjen keq që nuk mund të komunikoj më mirë." (I am learning to speak Albanian. I'm sorry I cannot communicate better.)

Still more people were won over by Tris when they heard that she was learning their language. Those who had assumed Mr. Eaton was marrying some snobbish American socialite were quickly learning that wasn't the case.

At one point in the evening, Amar stepped in and asked to see Tris in the kitchen for a moment. She gratefully followed Tobias' assistant, hoping she could at least sit down for whatever Amar needed.

The kitchen was busy, but Amar led Tris to the table at one end of the room. "Sit," he commanded, "put your feet up. You haven't had a moment of peace all evening. You need to eat something."

Tris laughed in sheer relief. A moment later she was presented with a plate of food and a tall glass of cool water.

"What did you need?" she asked Amar between bites.

"Nothing," he replied. "I just needed a few minutes away, and so did you. Plus you need to eat something."

"You're the best," Tris said gratefully. "I'll remember this when Tobias does your next performance review, or however he does that."

The two of them laughed and just enjoyed a few minutes of food and less noise before Tobias' business associates started arriving for the evening wave of the event.

.

January fourth came too soon, and the whirlwind of activity ended with the flight back to Chicago. Tris was pleased with everything they accomplished on the trip, though it was a bit hectic. She was thrilled with the wedding planner, Sasha, and with the champagne and rose pink wedding theme she was putting together for them. They were planning to incorporate a mix of traditions from their backgrounds, which Tris found fun and exciting.

Tobias planned to charter a larger private jet to bring Tris, her belongings, and her family and friends to Albania in June. After the long weekend of festivities, the charter would take most of them home while Tobias' jet took the honeymooners to Zanzibar, then took Tris' parents on a brief tour of Europe. At the end of the honeymoon week, Andrew and Natalie would spend another week at the Eaton estate with Tris and Tobias, but without the crowd or wedding festivities.

Just five months separated Tris and Tobias from their wedding. Five more months of separation, school work, and wedding planning.

"Just three more goodbyes," Tobias breathed into Tris' neck as they held each other on the flight home.

"Three?" Tris questioned as tears sprang to her eyes.

"Tomorrow I say goodbye until our spring break trip in March," Tobias said, making Tris shiver by kissing just below her ear. "After the trip I say goodbye until graduation. After graduation I'll say goodbye until our wedding, and then I'll never say goodbye to you again. And every separation we have left gets shorter and shorter. Two months to spring break. Six weeks from there to graduation. Four weeks from graduation until you come home to stay. It's almost over, Zemra ime. Soon we won't have to be alone ever again."

Tears streaked down Tris' cheeks. She knew he was right. But just thinking about being apart got harder each time. Chicago felt less and less like home to Tris. She had outgrown her parents' life and their comfortable, familiar home. She longed for Tobias' Mediterranean-style home, and the warmth of sleeping beside him. She already missed George, Tori, and Roza. The closer they got to the wedding, the more of Tris' heart stayed in Albania.

.

Tris started spring semester with a melancholy outlook. She didn't feel like partying with her friends, who were pretty busy with their last semester of classes. Tris actually had fewer classes that semester, but she did have a practicum, or required internship.

Because Tris wasn't going to be seeking a social work license in the state of Illinois, her practicum only had to meet the requirements for DU graduation. But Tris was never one to skate by with the bare minimum. She had sought out an internship that would help her down the road in the work she hoped to do for impoverished children in Albania, and worked with an agency that served immigrant families in a poor area of Chicago, addressing their educational needs.

On Tuesday and Thursday afternoons Tris would leave DU in her Jetta, careful not to wear or bring anything that had a designer label or looked expensive - including her engagement ring. She spent those afternoons tutoring at-risk kids, and helping with the agency's paperwork, grant requests, and other activities.

After work, Tris and her agency supervisor, a Somali-American woman named Asha Hassan, sometimes walked from their building to different local businesses, where they had dinner or bought groceries and things. Asha taught Tris that meaningful work was the real key to stability for the poor. Immigrants especially struggled, because many faced language barriers or discrimination in seeking employment.

Tris downplayed her internship when she first spoke to Tobias about it. She glossed over the rough neighborhood and mostly told him about how sweet the kids were. When they video chatted, she showed him pictures on her fridge that a couple young ones had colored for her.

But Tobias was not the type of person to just let things go. He had a keen mind for business, a heart for philanthropy, and a soul that loved Tris above all else. He researched the agency she worked for, and it only took a few clicks on the internet to realize what a dangerous neighborhood she was working in.

That night Tobias stayed up late as he became increasingly worried. He had a drink, hoping it would calm him down, but he only became more agitated as he read articles about crimes in the neighborhood where Tris was working. He went down to the den and poured himself a second glass of raki, bringing the bottle back to the bedroom.

He knew Tris would not be dissuaded about this internship. She loved kids, and wasn't the type of person to put her own comfort, or even her own safety, in front of helping others. He couldn't really fault her for that; after all, Tris' selfless nature was what saved his life and eventually brought the two of them together.

Tobias paced the master bedroom. As the night passed, his mind raced more and more. He started a list of precautions Tris could take or things he could do to make her safer as he had his second and third drink. He thought about funding security improvements at the facility, or even hiring someone to drive Tris back and forth and stay with her while she worked. He wondered if she carried pepper spray, and briefly entertained the idea of getting her a firearm, though he had no idea what she would think of the idea, or how that would work in America. He even thought about moving there himself for a few months, but that idea had many complicated problems.

At two o'clock in the morning Tobias gave in and called Tris, who answered on the first ring.

"Tobias?" she said, knowing how late it was in Albania. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said with a sigh, relieved to hear her voice. "I…" he stammered, not sure how to begin the conversation. "I did some research. I looked at the place where you're doing your practicum."

"Oh," Tris said flatly. I should have known this was coming, she thought to herself. And has he been drinking? He sounds all... slurred, and agitated.

"That part of Chicago…" Tobias began, trailing off again as words escaped him. "I just… I worry about you. I love you. I don't know how to be this far apart knowing that you walk into a dangerous situation twice a week. If something happened to you, I just… I don't know…"

"Have you been drinking?" Tris asked.

Tobias nodded in spite of the fact that Tris couldn't see him through the phone. He wasn't sure any more how many times he'd refilled his glass. "I thought it would help me relax," he admitted.

Tris sighed. "Would it help if I tell you how I've been handling things?" she asked. She'd been at the agency for two weeks by the time Tobias had enough information to research and get worried, so she had established some routines.

"Maybe?" Tobias said, though his statement came out more like a question. He wasn't sure anything short of having Tris beside him in bed would make him feel better, but he owed her the benefit of the doubt.

"I go to the agency on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons," Tris began slowly and calmly. "I don't wear or take anything that has a designer label on it or looks expensive. I leave all my jewelry, including my engagement ring, back at my apartment. I even bought a fake ring so people know I'm engaged, but I don't risk having someone steal my real ring. When I get off the freeway I go straight to the agency. The building has a little parking lot on the back side of it, so I have a place to park. I lock my car and go straight inside. I don't carry a purse or anything, just my backpack and phone, my driver's license, and a few dollars in cash - twenty dollars or less. If someone wanted to rob me, I could give them everything I had on me and lose practically nothing.

"Asha and I visit restaurants and shops in the neighborhood sometimes, but we only go together. I never wander around alone. I'm careful, but Tobias you have to understand that this is the reality of where and how these children live! This is the neighborhood they walk to school in, the place where they play outside, and where they sleep at night. I can't just decide that this is good enough for them but not good enough for me! I can't help anyone by avoiding the bad parts."

"I know," Tobias conceded, flopping onto the bed and spilling raki on the sheets, "and I knew you would say something like that. I just don't like being so far away. And what if something happened to you? I'm… I'm scared, Tris. I'm just not allowed to be this happy. Something bad is going to happen, and I don't know how to stop it!"

"Tobias," Tris said gently. "What happened to having faith?"

"I can't!" Tobias argued in a strangled, thick voice. Tris could hear the depth of his anguish. "I don't deserve good things," he continued. "Marcus was right, Tris! I can't do this! I can't keep you safe, and run the business. I can't help people if it means I risk losing you! I'm not meant to be happy. I can't… I... I think I'm going to be sick."

Tris heard a soft 'fump' noise as Tobias' phone landed on the bed, followed by sloppy bangs and bumps as he ran from the bedroom into the bathroom. Thankfully, she was spared the sound of Tobias getting sick.

She stayed on the line, though he didn't return. Instead, she heard Amar and George's voices calling for Tobias.

"He's in here," she heard Amar when he found Tobias.

The voices became distant mumbles again, but Tris stayed on the line.

"Where's Tris?" she heard Tobias ask, his voice heavy from intoxication.

"Tris is at home, back at Dauntless," Amar replied patronizingly.

"She was here," Tobias tried to explain. "I was talking to her."

"I know," Amar said, "she texted us and said you were upset and had been drinking."

"I couldn't calm down," Tobias said. "She's going to leave me. Something bad is going to happen, and I'll be too far away to help her. Marcus was right. Nobody should love me. I can't do it. I can't keep her safe."

"Ai është me të vërtetë i dehur," Tris heard George say, though she didn't understand most of the words. (He is really drunk)

"Po," (yes) Amar said, and Tris could hear the frustration in his voice. "Tobias, ke derdhur raki në shtratin tënd. Ne duhet të zëvendësojmë fletët tuaja."
(Tobias, you spilled raki in your bed. We need to replace your sheets.)

"English!" Tobias said blearily. "Tris doesn't understand all that Albanian. She's doing so good, though. But don't make her frustrated. She gets sad, and I don't like when she's sad. Just speak English."

Tris heard George laugh and Amar sigh. "She's not here," Amar said. "She's back in America."

"No, no," Tobias said, and Tris heard the blankets and pillows moving around the phone speaker. "She's here somewhere. I was just talking to her."

George chuckled again. "Kam gjetur celularin e tij," (I found his cellphone) he said, and Tris understood that simple sentence.

"Are you still there?" George asked Tris.

"Hey George," Tris said sadly. "Thank you so much for going over there. He's a mess. He's all worked up about my internship program, and he started drinking."

"I noticed," George said, and Tris could hear amusement in his voice. "I've never seen him this drunk before."

"He, uh… He did some digging online, and found out that where I'm working is kind of in a bad part of Chicago," she said sheepishly. "I'm being careful, but you know how overprotective he is."

It was George's turn to sigh, and all trace of humor was gone. "You understand, don't you?" he asked. "Marcus told him he could never be happy, that he didn't deserve to be loved and could never take care of good things. His mom died. All the nannies, and Roza, and all the people who took care of him were sent away when he was a kid. His dad beat him and constantly gave him a hard time. It's like he's afraid to be happy, because he thinks it'll just be taken away. Now he sees you in danger, and he feels helpless. He's afraid you'll be taken away from him, too."

"I understand," Tris replied, tears streaming down her cheeks, "but he's wrong. I'm not in danger, George. I'm careful, I have a plan, and all I'm doing is tutoring little kids. I'm probably in just as much danger driving down the road, or flying in his jet. I can't stop helping people because they live in a bad place! That's exactly why they need me!"

"I don't know what to say," George replied. "My first instinct is to side with Tobias, because I don't like to see him like this and because I want you to be safe, too. But you're right. We can't just live in fear. In any case, it's like three in the morning, and Tobias is in no condition to have a rational discussion or make any decisions tonight. Amar has his bed made, and he's tucked in. He literally has a pair of your pajamas in his arms like a toddler with a stuffed bear. I sure hope he doesn't have any morning meetings tomorrow.

"Amar and I will stay at the big house tonight. We'll be here if he gets sick again, and we'll keep him out of the liquor. I'll tell him to call you tomorrow. I'm sure he won't be up until it's daytime over there. Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm fine," Tris said wearily. "I missed dinner, but that's not a big deal. I'll heat up some pizza and work on homework. I have class in the morning, then I go to the agency in the afternoon to work with the kids. He knows my schedule. He can text if the times don't work out to call."

George wished Tris a good evening, and she thanked him again for being there for Tobias, then they hung up.

Tris went to her room and changed into her pajamas, throwing Tobias' sweatshirt over them. She reheated pizza and took it back to her bedroom before Lynn and Marlene could come back from dinner at the cafeteria. Christina had night class, and Tris was glad for the time alone. She tried to work on homework, but her heart was heavy, and she ended up falling asleep early, her pizza plush toy in her arms.