This doesn’t feel real. Like I just stepped sideways into a different version of my life.
Me:
Thank you. But one-way?
Pause.
Soren:
Yeah, not being weird. It’s just usually cheaper to book last-minute out of Ravelle. Something about flight path routing.
I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s his city. I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.
Me:
I guess I’m coming to Ravelle.
I’ll have to do some work while I’m there. I hope that’s okay.
The reply comes instantly.
Soren:
Good.
No problem at all re work.
I’ve got you now.
I read it twice. Something tightens in my chest. Not fear or anxiety, but something heavier.
I’ve got you now.
I should push back. Say I’m not something to begot. That I’m not looking for a savior.
That I gotmyselfout.
That I always do.
But I’m tired.Sotired. And right now, it feels like relief.
I close my eyes. Picture the airport. The plane. The moment the door shuts and I’m not here anymore.
For the first time in months, I feel something like hope.
I open my eyes. Look around the room. At the space I never fully unpacked in, because I never believed I’d stay.
My throat tightens.
“Watch me,” I whisper.
Because this time I’m not asking.
Not waiting.
Not shrinking.
I’m leaving.