Sasha smirked. “Good girl.”

They left in a swirl of laughter and rolling suitcases, Micah waving her sticky fingers in my direction before bounding into the car. I stood by the gate until they were nothing but dust in the driveway.

Then I moved. I packed the last of my clothes, folding them with care like they were precious even if they were decades old. I pulled off my wedding ring, the metal cold and heavy in my palm. I placed it on the kitchen table beside the divorce papers—my final gift to the life that had caged me.

One last thing—I changed the passcode on the house, locking every door they once slammed in my face. My bag was heavy, but my chest felt lighter than it had in years.

A taxi pulled up by the curb, but before I could climb in, a black car slid next to it, window rolling down. Kier leaned out, that infuriating grin on his face.

“Heading somewhere, Mrs. Reid?”

I laughed—a real, sharp laugh that bounced off the old gate. “Well, Mr. Dela Cruz, are you offering me a ride to Disneyland?”

He opened the door, tilting his head. “I’m better than your husband, aren’t I?”

I slipped into the seat beside him, the air between us buzzing with old memories and new freedom. “So far, you already are.”

The road to the airport felt like a dream—no Mike, no Nico, no Sasha’s poison dripping in my ear. Just Kier humming old love songs under his breath while the city blurred by.

Hours later, as the plane taxied onto the runway, I pressed my forehead to the tiny oval window. My phone buzzed on my tray table—Mike’s name flashing bright as a curse.

Mike: Why is the travel agency not answering? What did you do? Where are you? Fix this mess!

I smiled, tapping out my last words to the man who buried me alive for twenty years.

Me: Oh, sorry. I cancelled your trip. I left something for you at home, too. Goodbye, my dear. You’ll never see me again.

I removed my SIM card, then I opened the window just a crack, enough to feel the rush of cold wind kiss my face. The card slipped from my fingers, tumbling through the sky.

I closed the window, leaned back in my seat, and felt the weight on my chest lift, piece by piece. For the first time in twenty years, I wasn’t waiting for someone to call me back home.