But I had my own plan. I gave him a gift in return, telling him to open it in half a month. He smiled, thinking I was planning some grand surprise for him. He didn’t realize it was the last thing I’d ever give him.
When that day came, I was already gone. The note I left was simple, but my absence spoke louder than words. No one would ever find me again.
-
"Congratulations, Miss Ward. You’ve successfully obtained permanent residence in Canada. Would you like to retain your citizenship in your home country?" the staff member asked, their tone polite but inquisitive.
I shook my head, resolute. "Cancel my account."
The staff hesitated, clearly taken aback. "If you cancel, your personal information will be completely erased. No past records, no trace—you’ll disappear entirely."
I smiled faintly. "That’s precisely the point."
"Understood, Miss Ward. I’ll process the account cancellation. The procedure will take fifteen days. Please keep track of the timeline."
As I stepped out of the service hall, the weight of the decision lifted from my shoulders. A one-way ticket to Canada was already in my bag. Freedom awaited.