Only when we shatter

“B?” The front door slammed shut, followed by hurried footsteps pounding up the stairs. “I’m so sorry! My registrar dumped an entire ward round on me last minute. Are you ready to go?” Nina’s voice echoed through the hallway, growing closer. I stood from the bed, smoothing the front of my sweater with clammy hands. My pulse thudded in my throat. “B?” she called again, softer this time—almost hesitant. “I’m here,” I called out as I stepped out of my mother’s room, forcing a smile. “All set.” She froze at the top of the stairs, her eyes welling as they landed on me. “Are you sure?” That question again. I blinked hard. “What do you mean? My bags are packed, I’m dressed, I’ve got my passport and ticket right here—” I held up my travel wallet, flipping it open to double-check for the third time. But Nina wasn’t looking at my documents. She stepped forward and gently stilled my jittery hands. “That’s not what I meant,” she said, her voice low. “I meant… are you sure you want to do this?” I looked away, throat tightening. “Nins, we don’t have time for this.” “Just say it.” Her tone hardened suddenly. “Say you’re sure.” I yanked my hands back and shoved the wallet into my duffel bag. “You had your chance to talk me out of this. You didn’t. I made my decision, and I’m sticking to it.” I brushed past her and stomped toward the door. “If you start guilt-tripping me now, I swear to God, I’ll call a cab. I can’t afford to miss this flight.” “Fine,” she snapped, brushing past me down the stairs. “Be like that.” She threw the front door open and dragged my single suitcase toward the car. The bag wasn’t heavy—barely filled with anything except a few clothes, toiletries, and that gnawing sense of finality. I lingered for a beat on the threshold, eyes sweeping over the cracked walls and the sagging front porch. The house was old, a little broken… but it had been home for nearly twenty years. It held secrets. Memories. Ghosts. I turned the key one last time, and it clicked into silence behind me. Nina gunned the engine and tore out of the driveway like she was trying to outrun the emotions we weren’t allowed to name. We wove through traffic, and the longer we drove, the tighter the silence became. Nina’s jaw was locked. She wasn’t just mad—she was heartbroken. I didn’t blame her. But I also couldn’t give her what she wanted. After fifteen minutes of near-total silence, she finally spoke. “You have the keys to your apartment in Seattle?” “No,” I answered quietly. “I’m picking them up from the lobby.” “Even if it’s late?” “It’s a staffed building, Nins. I’ll be fine.” She snorted. “Well. At least you’re not completely careless.” I flinched. My grip tightened on my bag. “He’s devastated, you know.” I turned sharply. “You told him?” She gave me a pointed glare. “No. Don’t you dare pin this on me. He asked where I was rushing off to, and I told him. That’s it. Don’t act like I betrayed you.” I looked away, shame and anger churning in my chest. “s**t. What if he shows up at the airport?” “He won’t. He’s in surgery.” “Fantastic,” I muttered, voice thick with sarcasm. The rest of the drive passed in strained silence until we reached the airport parking lot. Nina helped me haul my bag from the boot and wheeled it through the terminal. Every step toward the check-in counter felt like peeling away a layer of myself. I was leaving everything behind—her, this town, the only version of me anyone had ever known. We paused just outside the departure gates. “Hey,” I said softly. “I’m sorry I snapped before. And thank you. For coming with me. At least now, I don’t feel so… alone.” She blinked rapidly, fighting tears. “Bella, you’re never alone. We’re your family. No matter what.” I threw my arms around her, burying my face into her shoulder as emotion threatened to spill over. “I have to do this. You understand that, don’t you?” “Yeah,” she whispered. “Of course I do. I just wish we had more time.” “This isn’t goodbye forever. You’ll visit. We’ll drive the Pacific Coast like you always dreamed.” She pulled back, smiling through her tears. “Seattle to San Diego? That’s a stretch.” “We’ll make it happen,” I promised. Just then, my boarding call echoed over the speakers. “You better go,” she murmured, stepping back. I nodded and adjusted the strap on my shoulder. “Okay.” “Wait,” she said suddenly, digging through her oversized handbag. “I almost forgot.” She pulled out a small black box and held it out to me. I froze. I knew who it was from. I didn’t want to touch it. Didn’t want to know what was inside. Accepting it would mean something. It would complicate everything. “Nins…” “Just take it,” she insisted, curling my fingers around the box. “Call it a goodbye gift. Or a peace offering. Or nothing at all. But don’t throw it away, okay? Just… keep it for later.” I exhaled slowly, then tucked it into the front pocket of my duffel. “Thanks,” I said hoarsely. “I just need time.” “I know,” she nodded. “Take all the time you need.” We stared at each other—two hearts stretched thin across a sea of unsaid things—until I turned to go. “Call me when you land,” she called out. “I don’t care how late it is.” I smiled faintly over my shoulder. “Ta ta, Nins.” And then I walked away. Toward something new. Toward someone I didn’t know yet. Me.