and I was about to begin a new life.
I didn’t look at the photos again.
I simply deleted the conversation and reopened Solomon’s email.
The cursor blinked over “Reply.”
I typed only a few words:
“Thank you for the invitation.
I accept. See you in Paris.”
The moment I hit “Send,” a gust of wind swept past the window.
It rattled the glass and lifted the sketches on my desk—
design drafts he had once dismissed as useless dreams.
The papers fluttered to the floor, scattering like soft feathers across
the room.
I bent down to pick one up.
On the back, in faint handwriting, were the words I had written five
years ago:
“A woman is not an accessory.
I am a creator.”
I stared at it for a few seconds, then smiled—
a real smile this time.
Maybe this was where my freedom truly began.
That night, I booked a flight.
Destination: Paris.
Departure date: November 11th.
At the very same moment Lucas would be celebrating his “new beginning,”
I would be flying toward mine.
