Last Flight Home

I returned home to Azurea alone.

My mother opened the door. The moment she saw that there was no one behind me, a look of quiet heartbreak flashed across her face.

My father sat on the sofa, his back straight as always, but there was a deep exhaustion in the way he held himself.

I could not help but recall what they said to me five years ago. And now I was back–like a soldier who lost the battle and fled home.

I turned my phone on and off again. The unread messages and missed calls from Clara Miller almost flooded the screen.

"Julian Vance, I'm sorry! Wait for me!"

"He's stable now–I'll buy a plane ticket right away!"

"Answer the phone, please. Let me explain!"

I did not reply to a single one.

My heart felt as if it was frozen.

Three years ago, came back to me: the first snowfall in Northwood City. She burrowed into my arms and teased softly,

"Julian, in this lifetime, Clara will never betray you."

Now that promise melted away–just like the snow.

The next evening, Clara showed up.

Gone was her usual polished appearance. Her eyes were hollow with exhaustion as she stubbornly waited downstairs outside my building.

"Julian, just give me five minutes. Five minutes."

Her voice was hoarse, nearly breaking.

My parents stood firm, their faces cold, refusing to let her inside.

She held up her phone, its glow lighting her pale face.

"Look! The referral agreement! I've officially transferred Adrian Locke to Dr. Hayes. I deleted every contact–blocked everything!"

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through the screen.

"I was an idiot! I lost my head! I shouldn't have left you like that! Julian, I can't live without you."

She started talking about the year we lived in that basement apartment–how the heating broke in winter, and she held me all night, trying to warm me with her own body heat.

Then she talked about how hard she worked, pushing herself day and night, just to give me a decent home sooner, so that one day I could hold my head high in front of my parents.

"Julian, everything I've worked for was for you, for our future."

Suddenly, halfway through her sentence, her expression changed. She covered her mouth and rushed toward the shrubs nearby, retching violently.

When she came back a moment later, her face still pale, I looked at her flat stomach.

A thought struck me like lightning.

"You!" My voice felt dry.

She lifted her tearful eyes and nodded. Her hand moved instinctively to protect her abdomen.

"Almost two months, Julian. We're going to have a baby."

Looking at the red veins lining her exhausted eyes–and the way she guarded her stomach–my heart clenched painfully.