I gave her a smile, small and empty. “Anywhere that’s mine.”
Then I left the café.
I didn’t look back.
The airport smelled of strong coffee and long goodbyes. I wheeled my suitcase toward the gate, my stomach hollow but my mind clear.
While waiting in line at security, I glanced across the terminal.
Troy was there. He wore a black coat, dragging his suitcase, walking toward the VIP lounge.
He didn’t see me. He didn’t even look up.
I didn’t call his name. Didn’t wave. I just watched him pass. He disappeared behind glass doors as if I never existed.
My phone buzzed.
Troy: Just landed. Got you something.
A picture followed—a thin silver bracelet, cheap-looking, no box. A souvenir from the duty-free aisle.
I stared at it for a long second. Then I laughed—soft, bitter, detached.
So that was it. He bought Bianca a necklace worn by royalty once. Of course, I know that the business trip wasn’t business but an auction to get what Bianca wants! And me? A bracelet from the airport.
I opened our thread. Scrolled through the years of messages. Lies. Half-hearted apologies. Silent treatments. Gaslighting wrapped in charm.
I blocked his number.
Then I boarded my plane without looking back.