If that was how he felt, then there was nothing left to say.
At first light, I packed my suitcase and walked out of the apartment for the last time. For the first time in weeks, a strange relief coursed through me, stronger than the sorrow I still carried in my chest. I was free.
While waiting to board my flight, my phone buzzed with birthday notifications. I had forgotten it was my birthday entirely. In years past, Caleb would have been the first—an extravagant surprise planned down to the last detail, a gift or gesture that reminded me I was cherished.
This year, his silence spoke louder than any words could.
The other messages were warm and sincere—friends wishing me happiness, success, and good fortune with my upcoming marriage. I replied to each carefully, one by one, then set my phone aside.
As the plane lifted into the sky, the first golden rays of sunrise breaking over the horizon, I made a quiet, determined promise to myself.
I would find happiness again.
And this time, it would not depend on anyone else. Not Caleb. Not Marina. Not a single person who had tried to define my worth.
This time, I would build my own life—on my own terms.
