Chapter 10 - THE NEXT FLIGHT
One year later, I boarded a plane alone.
Not to Miami.
To Santa Fe.
A friend had rented a house for a week, and for the first time in years, I did not have to justify my itinerary to anyone.
I chose a window seat.
Placed my passport in the pocket.
Set a novel on my lap.
No folder.
No photographs.
No sealed document.
When the seat beside me remained empty until boarding closed, I smiled.
Not because I was lonely.
Because empty space no longer felt like abandonment.
It felt like peace.
The divorce was final by then.
My grandmother’s property remained mine.
Julian’s reputation survived in some circles and did not in others.
Men like him rarely vanish completely.
They simply become more careful about which rooms they enter.
Chloe moved to Denver, according to Mara, who mentioned it once because her attorney sent final paperwork from there.
I hoped she learned.
I hoped she never let another man define reality for her.
I hoped I did too.
Before takeoff, the flight attendant asked if I wanted water.
“Yes, please.”
I took the cup.
Watched the runway through the window.
And thought of seat 7C.
Of Julian’s face when I sat down.
Of Chloe realizing the love story she believed was built on somebody else’s lie.
Of the photographs hitting the tray table.
Of the sealed document that made my husband understand I had stopped begging and started filing.
People think confrontation is loud.
Mine was quiet.
A cream tweed jacket.
Sunglasses.
A leather folder.
One sentence in an airplane cabin:
“Chicago looks a lot like Miami.”
That was the moment I stopped chasing answers and began delivering consequences.
The plane lifted.
Clouds spread beneath us.
For the first time in years, I was not wondering where Julian was flying, who he was sitting beside, or what papers he wanted signed before he landed.
I leaned back.
May you like
Opened my book.
And let the aircraft carry me somewhere that had nothing to do with him.
