CHAPTER THREE

Early the next morning, I sat at my desk and wrote the note.

I stared at the first version for nearly a minute before tearing it apart. Too angry.

The second sounded too apologetic, as if I were asking for permission to leave. I tore that one up too.

The third was the closest thing to the truth. I couldn't become what they had chosen for me. I couldn't explain everything because, truthfully, I wasn't sure I understood everything myself. I only knew that if I stayed, I would eventually disappear inside the life they had built for me.

My eyes lingered on the words.

Was this really what I wanted? For a moment, doubt crept in.

Then I remembered the engagement. My father's voice. My mother's words from yesterday.

And the message.

Don't leave the house tomorrow.

I had barely slept after reading it. I'd spent hours wondering who had sent it, imagining every possible reason. I was scared. Of course I was. But whoever had sent it had already failed. I was leaving.

 I folded the note carefully and placed it on my pillow. Then I gripped the handle of my suitcase and looked around my bedroom one last time. My room. The place I'd grown up in. The walls I'd stared at through childhood nightmares, birthdays, and sleepless nights.

Leaving it felt strangely like leaving a piece of myself behind. For a moment, I couldn't move. Then I remembered why I was doing this.

I pulled the suitcase behind me and stepped into the hallway. The house was silent. I moved carefully, my footsteps barely touching the floor as I made my way toward the back of the house. The main entrance was out of the question. Two security guards were stationed at the front gate, and cameras watched the driveway. Walking out through there with a suitcase would be like announcing my escape.

But the service entrance was different. Staff came and went through there every day. I had spent the previous night thinking about it, planning exactly when I would leave.

When I reached the back corridor, I heard the low rumble of an engine. A delivery van. My heart quickened. I peeked through the window. It was still a bit dark. The van stopped near the service gate, and one of the guards walked over to check the delivery.

The gate opened.  I tightened my grip on the suitcase.

Now.

I stepped outside and kept my head down, pulling the suitcase behind me. The guard was busy speaking to the driver.

I walked behind the van, keeping to the side until I was through the gate. One more step. Then another. I didn't breathe until I reached the end of the street.

I turned around.

The house stood in the distance, quiet and familiar. For one terrible second, I wanted to go back. I finally reached the end of the street before pulling out my phone.

A notification lit up the screen.

Your Uber driver has arrived.

My shoulders loosened slightly.

I'd booked the ride the night before and asked him not to come directly to the house. I couldn't risk anyone seeing a car waiting for me at the gate.

I glanced back. The house was still in the distance, quiet and unaware.

For a moment, the message from last night came back to me.

Don't leave the house tomorrow.

The fear was still there, cold and persistent beneath my ribs. But it didn't matter anymore. I'd made my choice.

I turned away from the house and walked toward the waiting car.

By the time I reached the airport, my palms were damp. I kept expecting my phone to ring.

My father's name. My mother's. Someone from the house telling me to come back. But it stayed silent. I looked at my phone one my time then switched if off.

 At the airport, I checked the departure screen, then my boarding pass, my heart pounding harder with every step.

Naples.

The word stared back at me. For a moment, I stood there, suitcase beside me, wondering if I was really about to do this.

Then the boarding announcement came. I took a breath and joined the line. I didn't look back.

*

When the plane landed in Naples it was already a little after four in the evening, reality finally caught up with me.

The airport was larger and busier than I'd imagined. The language sounded unfamiliar around me, signs blurred together, and suddenly I was standing alone with a suitcase and absolutely no idea what came next.

I took out my phone, a couple messages but none were from Dad or Mum surprisingly, I let out a deep sign.

Kayla's name was still saved exactly as it had been four years ago.

My thumb hovered over it. What if she didn't want me there? What if her life had changed too much? What if that postcard had only been something she'd written without ever imagining I'd actually take her seriously?

I almost put my phone away. Then I remembered the words.

If you ever need to run, come.

I pressed call.

She answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

For a second, I couldn't speak.

“Alicia?”

“Hi.”

There was a pause.

“Where are you?”

I swallowed. How could she just know to ask me that.

“Italy.”

Silence.

Then—

“What?”

“I came to Italy.”

Another silence.

“You're joking.”

“I wish I were.”

I heard her breathe out sharply.

“Which part of Italy?”

“Naples”

“You're at the airport?”

“Yes.”

“Stay there.”

“Kayla—”

“Stay. There.”

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone then turned it off again.

Then, despite everything, I laughed.

That was Kayla.

Twenty minutes later, I saw her running through the arrivals area.

Her honey-blonde hair bounced around her shoulders as she hurried toward me, and the moment she recognized me, her entire face changed.

She didn't ask questions. She didn't lecture me. She simply ran straight into me.

The hug came so suddenly that I barely had time to let go of my suitcase before she wrapped her arms around me.

“You made it,” she whispered.

Then she pulled back and stared at me. I could see tears in her eyes.

“You absolute idiot.”

I laughed, though tears were already burning my eyes.

“I missed you.”

Her expression softened.

“I missed you too.”

Then she hugged me again.

For the first time since I'd left home, I allowed myself to breathe.

Kayla hadn't changed as much as I'd expected.

She was still charismatic and warm, the kind of person who could make a stranger feel like an old friend within minutes. Her green eyes were bright and expressive, and her easy confidence seemed almost foreign to me now.

She looked at my suitcase.

“That's it?”

“I didn't know how long I'd be staying.”

Kayla raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you're staying.”

I smiled.

“I hope so.”

She didn't ask me any difficult questions there.

She simply took my suitcase.

“We'll talk when we're home.”

During the taxi ride, she talked as if she'd been saving four years' worth of stories for me.

She'd broken up with her childhood boyfriend, Ethan. Nothing dramatic, she insisted. They'd simply grown into different people. She was studying Business Management at a university and working part-time at a bookstore a few streets away.

After her parents' divorce, she'd decided to build a life entirely on her own terms. I listened while watching Italy pass through the taxi window.

Scooters slipped between cars. People sat outside cafés, laughing over tiny cups of coffee. Laundry hung from balconies

Nothing was perfectly arranged. Nothing seemed afraid of being imperfect.

It was messy. Loud. Alive.

And somehow, it made me feel alive too.

*

Kayla's apartment was ordinary in the best possible way.

Small but comfortable, with a warm little living room, a brown couch, and a small dining table pushed against the wall.

A few plants sat near the window, filling the room with a touch of green. It wasn't fancy, but it felt lived-in and welcoming.

I loved it immediately.

Kayla dropped my suitcase beside the couch and looked at me.

“You're safe here.”

Those three words broke something open inside me.

I looked away quickly.

“Don't,” I whispered.

“Don't what?”

“Make me cry.”