Departing
795 Words
“Next!” the clerk called, and Sandra stepped forward, her heart pounding against her ribs.
“Good morning. I’m here to pick up my passport,” she said, forcing her voice to stay calm. She handed over her ID and collection slip.
The woman behind the counter typed a few things, nodded, then disappeared into a back room. Sandra’s fingers tapped an uneven rhythm on the counter as her eyes skimmed the walls without really seeing them.
“Here you go.”
A slim blue booklet appeared in the clerk’s hand. Sandra stared for a moment before taking it. Her name was embossed in gold on the cover—Sandra Alvarez.
Her vision blurred with tears, but she blinked them back.
“Can you sign here, please?”
She signed quickly, then clutched the passport to her chest as if afraid it might vanish.
Outside, the sun greeted her like an old friend. She looked up at the sky, holding the passport tight.
“I got it, Andre! I got the passport!” she shouted, bouncing with excitement.
Andre stepped out of the car and swept her into a hug, lifting her slightly off the ground. His pride and joy for her radiated like sunlight.
“Let’s go,” he said when the moment calmed. Like a gentleman, he opened the car door for her, waited until she was seated, then got in himself.
But as they drove, Sandra grew quiet. The earlier excitement faded into stillness. She gazed out the window, eyes clouded with sadness and uncertainty.
“Are you okay?” Andre asked, his attention still on the road. He didn’t need to look at her to know something was wrong. His Sandra was never silent with him—she filled the air with thoughts, dreams, and random chatter. So when she was quiet… it hit differently.
“I… I still can’t decide,” she admitted, turning toward him. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I don’t want to leave you. What if you don’t wait for me? What if the distance tears us apart? My heart already aches just thinking about it. And… my siblings…”
Her voice cracked, her insecurities spilling out.
“I will wait,” Andre said firmly, cutting her off with gentleness. “Distance can break, but it can also make love grow stronger—and I choose that. Never say you’re nothing special, Sandra. You’re the definition of special.”
He reached over and brushed away her tears. He understood her fear. It wasn’t a lack of trust—it was the echo of every hardship she’d endured. Every good thing still felt fragile. She’d built walls to protect herself from heartbreak, and breaking them down would take time.
Time he was willing to give her.
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The airport buzzed with movement—suitcases rolling, voices calling out, laughter and tears blending together. Sandra stood near the gate, her passport in one hand, her Juilliard acceptance letter tucked safely in her bag.
Andre stood beside her, calm on the outside but fighting the lump in his throat. Her father’s eyes shone with pride and sadness, while Mitchell clung to Sandra’s leg, unwilling to let go. Emma and Daniel hovered close, their emotions written plainly on their faces.
“This is really happening,” Sandra whispered.
“Now boarding: Flight 208 to New York City,” the announcement rang out.
Andre placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. Show the world who you are. I’ll be right here, cheering for you. No matter how long it takes, I’ll wait. You’re my star.”
Her father pulled her into a warm embrace. “I’m so proud of you. Always.”
“I’ll make you proud, Dad. I promise.”
Sandra bent to hug Mitchell, whispering something playful to make her giggle despite the tears. She turned to Daniel. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t overwork.”
Then to Emma—“You’re still my baby brother, but you’ve got this. And don’t forget to sleep with the blanket.”
Emma rolled his eyes. “I don’t!”
Finally, she turned to Andre. The tears she’d been holding back spilled freely as she melted into his arms.
“Okay, my girl. It’s time,” Andre murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered.
“Me too. But go. I’ll wait.”
With one last deep breath, Sandra walked toward the gate, boarding pass in hand. Each step carried her farther from the life she knew, closer to the dream she had fought for.
She didn’t look back—not because she didn’t want to, but because if she did… she might not have the strength to keep walking.
- Writer
