Chapter 4

The day after the celebration dinner, Ethan sat at the table as if nothing had happened.

He pushed a document toward me.

"I talked to a flight school nearby."

I looked down at it.

It was a prepayment confirmation for refresher training.

"You've been saying you want to fly again, right? I've already put down a deposit for you. Once you're feeling better, you can start your lessons."

I didn't touch the document.

Ethan leaned back in his chair. "You were the one who decided to stop flying back then. I only laid out the reality of the situation. Nobody forced you. Now that things are better, I'm willing to support you. There's no need to keep holding onto the past."

I almost laughed.

The person who'd grounded me was now granting me permission to take off.

He'd clipped my wings, and now he was sliding a course confirmation across the table and calling it compensation.

"I don't need it."

He frowned slightly.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't need your approval to fly."

I looked at him, my voice calm.

"I didn't need it then, and I certainly don't need it now."

Ethan was silent for a few seconds, then gathered the papers back up.

"You're just angry right now."

"No, I'm not."

"Once you calm down, you'll see I'm trying to help."

He stood up and left, as if he'd already concluded the conversation for both of us.

In his logic, I would get angry, refuse, and give him the silent treatment.

But in the end, I would always come back.

Three days later was our seven-year anniversary.

It was also the day the lease on the cabin in Bend went into effect.

That morning, I loaded the two suitcases into the car.

Before leaving, I went back to the bedroom one last time.

I had already wiped the dust off the logbook in the drawer. The ultrasound report was tucked inside the first page.

I put them both in my carry-on.

Everything else, I left behind.

Before walking out, I did three more things.

I removed Ethan from my medical emergency contacts, revoked his authorized-user status on the joint credit card, and changed the listed drivers and policyholder information on the auto insurance so the policy was in my name alone.

Each time, the system asked for confirmation.

"Are you sure you want to remove partner access?"

I confirmed each one.

A seven-year relationship couldn't end with a single goodbye.

It was buried in hospital records, insurance policies, bank accounts, and every default authorization.

I didn't want to leave a single door he could push open whenever he pleased.

As I drove out of Bellevue and passed the general aviation airport on the edge of the city, I stopped at a red light.

Two familiar figures stood by the tarmac.

Ethan was wheeling luggage, and Skyler walked beside him, flight materials cradled in her arms.

A small aircraft sat parked nearby.

She was heading to another city today for her next phase of testing.

Ethan had taken vacation days to accompany her personally.

For my refresher training, all he'd offered was a signature and a payment.

For her exam, he was willing to clear his entire schedule and sit in the right seat beside her the whole way.

The light turned green.

I didn't pull over. I didn't honk.

I instinctively touched my lower left abdomen, then stepped on the gas.

The airport shrank in the rearview mirror.

After seven years, I was finally back in the driver's seat of my own life.

What I was going to reclaim wasn't the sky Ethan had offered me as charity.

It was the one that had been mine all along.