AURORA'S POV:
Airports always smell like coffee, metal, and rushing feet.
It’s still dark when we arrive. The automatic doors glide open with a whoosh, and the cold air outside nips at my skin. Students shuffle in with neck pillows, sleepy yawns, and half-zipped bags. The mood is a weird blend of exhaustion and relief.
I trail behind the group, my passport clenched in one hand and boarding pass in the other. Jon’s beside me again, just close enough to be comforting. Arc walks a few feet behind us, pretending not to care but his gaze hasn’t left me once since we stepped into the building.
We check in and move through security in slow motion. Nobody talks much. Even Cali is quiet, sipping an iced drink she somehow convinced a barista to make before dawn.
When we finally settle near the
