She was always so generous, yet Elias couldn’t shake the weight pressing on his heart. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice trembling. "Mira, I swear—this will be the last time. From now on, your safety will always come first. Always."
Mira nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Alright, I believe you, Captain Sullivan."
Later that night, as the steady rhythm of Elias' snores filled the bedroom, Mira lay awake. Her gaze lingered on the soft glow of his phone screen, where she had caught a glimpse of the message he sent to Vera before drifting off to sleep.
Mira is leaving on a business trip tomorrow. After the wedding, I’ll make sure we check off every item on your bucket list. She’ll be back in about 20 days. Let’s not contact each other until then.
Her chest tightened, and the ache spread through her as if winter’s chill had seeped into her bones.
At five o'clock in the morning, before the first light of dawn, Mira rose quietly. She dressed swiftly, careful not to disturb him, and packed her suitcase. Standing in the doorway, she turned back for one final glance at the home they had built together—the memories etched into its corners, now too painful to bear.
"Elias," she whispered in her heart, "I will never return. From this moment on, let us be strangers, with nothing to do with each other ever again."
The icy winter wind bit at her cheeks as she stepped into the dark, her figure swallowed by the vast emptiness of the early morning.
