The airport was a chaotic symphony of rolling suitcases, muffled announcements, and the frantic energy of people trying to get somewhere else. Michelle sat at Gate B12, her back straight, her hands clasped tightly over her purse.
She had checked her luggage. She had passed through security. She was, for all intents and purposes, already gone.
Her phone buzzed in her lap.
She looked down.
A text from Jeremiah.
The text beneath it broke what was left of her resolve.
"We’re not whole without you."
Michelle’s head immediately felt like it was filled with static—half-formed thoughts colliding with memories she had spent ten years carefully burying. Her plan had been simple in theory: go home, unpack the ache quietly, and wait. Wait for Paris. Wait for clarity. Wait for the life she had b
