“We will,” I replied. “But not here.”
I looked at Margaret one last time. She stared at me like I had just shattered something she thought was untouchable.
“Good night.”
And I walked out.
Two days later, I was packing. Just one suitcase—comfortable clothes, a couple of dresses. The idea of going alone didn’t feel lonely.
It felt peaceful.
The doorbell rang.
It was Ethan.
He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept.
“Can I come in?”
I nodded.
He looked at the suitcase.
“So you’re really going.”
“Of course,” I said. “I thought about staying and being upset… but the ocean sounds better.”
He smiled faintly.
“My mom’s furious,” he admitted.
“Your mom is always something,” I said.
He sat down.
“I told her she crossed a line. That I won’t stand by anymore.”
I stayed quiet.
“I want to come with you,” he said.
That surprised me.
“With me?”
“I spoke to your dad. Asked if I could book on my own.”
“And?”
“He said it’s your decision.”
I smiled slightly. That sounded like my father.
“Why?” I asked. “Really.”
“Because I’m tired of choosing silence over you,” he said. “And because you deserve better than that.”
I thought for a moment.
“One condition,” I said.
“Anything.”