The apartment door clicked shut behind her.
Christina didn't check the lock twice.
She simply turned, picked up her bag, and smiled at the quiet.
Today wasn't an escape.
It was a beginning.
---
Downstairs, Felix waited with two train tickets tucked inside a paperback novel. Not hidden. Just folded.
“Everything packed?" he asked.
“Just the important things," she replied.
“Which are?"
“A sweater. A photo. And a stubborn little plant named Option."
He grinned. “Still alive?"
“Thriving."
---
They boarded the train at platform 6, no press, no handlers.
Coach class. No luxury.
Just people. Luggage. Space to breathe.
They shared headphones—his playlist this time.
“Is this... jazz?" she asked.
He looked wounded. “It's atmospheric. Respect the saxophone."
She laughed. Loudly. Fr
