The flight to Chicago felt like the longest four hours of my life. I sat by the window, forehead pressed against the glass, watching the clouds drift by below. My phone was clutched in my hand like a lifeline, screen dark, no new notifications. I had tried calling Damien three times already, once before boarding, once after takeoff when the signal came back, and once more just before landing. Every call went straight to voicemail. No texts and no replies, just silence.
I kept replaying the argument in the garage, over and over.
“If you leave, never come back.”
His words echoed in my head, sharp and final. I had slammed the car door and walked away anyway, stubborn and angry and convinced I was doing the right thing for my career. Now, thousands of feet in the air, that stubbornness felt
