He said again, "Next time, I promise I’ll be there."

I heard him exhale heavily, but I continued packing without any change in my tone when I opened my mouth, "It’s fine. You take care of your work."

What he didn’t know was that there wouldn’t be a next time or any time after that. There was no future left for us.

Before boarding my flight, I mailed a copy of my “post-miscarriage recovery” medical report to his office at the school using express delivery and the recipient was Charlie.