Chapter 4

Packing went faster than I expected. Because in this apartment I'd lived in for five years, very little actually belonged to me. The bookshelf was all Ethan's flight manuals, his uniform jacket hung by the entryway, flight cases and model planes were piled in the corner of the living room. Even the fridge door had his roster taped to it. My things were just a few pieces of clothing, a medical notebook, a first-aid kit, and my mother's journal. I put them into the suitcase one by one.

Then I went to the top shelf of the closet, pulled over a chair, and took down the moisture-proof box. I opened it. Inside lay an old epaulet and a photocopy of an early flight logbook, the one Ethan had swapped out when he first passed his captain's exam. Back then he was still just a first officer, so stressed he'd go whole nights without sleep. I sat with him while he memorized procedures, organized his route materials, ran through oral checks over and over. Sometimes he'd fall asleep facedown on the desk, and I'd sort his scattered papers by date for him. The day he passed, he handed me this old epaulet and said, "Wait for me to fly home and marry you."

I'd kept it well. A moisture-proof box, soft cloth, desiccant, taking it out every so often for a look, like looking at a stretch of the past we'd gotten through together. Looking at that epaulet now, all I felt was the irony. After he'd flown up out of that low point, he never once looked back at the person who'd stood with him on the ground.

I packed the epaulet and the logbook into a shipping envelope, wrote Claire Bennett as the recipient, with the Delta training center as the address. For the note I wrote a single line. "For you. After all, you need his flight hours more than I do."

Half an hour later the courier came to the door. The moment I handed over the envelope and the door closed, it felt like a weight had come off me.

I sat down at the dining table and opened my laptop. Canceled the shared location, removed the medical authorization contact, withdrew the Delta family registration, canceled the joint lease renewal, canceled the engagement party booking. Every time I clicked confirm, the page popped up "Are you sure?" and every time I clicked confirm.

So a five-year relationship really could be taken apart into this many practical pieces. Emergency contact, family status, shared address, future plans. I used to think these were proof of being loved. Only now did I understand they could also be chains.

Finally I took off my engagement ring and set it in the tray by the entryway, next to the spare key card to the apartment. The metal made a faint clink.

No letter, no note. I pulled my suitcase and pushed the door open.

The taxi headed for the airport. Boston's early morning was cold. I sent Sophie a text. "I'm leaving. Going to Seattle."

She replied quickly. "Finally?"

I looked at that word and smiled. "Yeah."

"Want me to see you off?"

"No need."

"Then promise me. Don't look back."

"I won't."

My phone suddenly buzzed. Ethan. I looked at the name on the screen and waited a few seconds before answering. The other end was noisy, like a corridor at the training center. His voice was tight with anger. "Emma, what did you send to Claire?"

I didn't say anything.

"I just finished a simulator debrief. Didn't sleep all night. What exactly are you trying to do?"

Claire's voice came through on the other end. "Ethan, is this package from Emma?" The sound of a plastic bag being torn open came through clearly. "There's an old epaulet inside, and a flight logbook." Her voice softened. "There's something engraved on the back of the epaulet... 'Wait for me to fly home and marry you.'"

The next second Ethan's voice exploded. "Don't touch it!"

The shout was so harsh it hurt my ear. Claire seemed startled and let out a scream. Chaos broke out on the other end, like something had been knocked over.

"Emma!" Ethan's voice had changed. "Are you listening? Where are you?"

Watching the streets rush backward outside the window, I said calmly, "Ethan, that promise you once made, I don't want it anymore. Give it to someone who needs your flight hours more."

"Don't hang up." His voice finally shook. "Emma, don't hang up yet, where are you? I'm coming home right now. Let's talk."

I didn't answer. I just hung up. Then I took out the SIM card, rolled down the window, and threw it into the wind.

The taxi merged onto the highway. Up ahead, toward the airport, the sky was slowly brightening.