Starting Over

The airport was loud, chaotic, and bursting with Christmas energy, but none of it touched Melody. She sat on one of the cold metal chairs in the waiting area, her arms wrapped around her coat, her suitcase parked beside her like a silent witness. A few days ago, she had been in the house she shared with Brandon, making dinner, and thinking about the bracelet. 

Suzie.

That name was tattooed to her mind.

Her chest tightened with every breath. She hadn’t slept. Not even for a second. She hadn’t eaten either. Everything inside her felt swollen and bruised. 

And now she was at the airport, waiting for a flight she didn’t plan, heading to a city she’d never been to, because staying home felt like standing inside a burning building.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

Tara

Where are you now??

Melody 

At the airport. Gate C.

Tara

I can't wait to see you. You’ll be okay. I promise.

Melody swallowed a painful lump in her throat. She didn’t know if she was going to be okay. Her flight wouldn’t board for another twenty minutes, and the ache in her head was beginning to throb. She pushed herself off the chair and walked toward the vending area. She needed something warm.

There was a small automated coffee stand, and she tapped a button for a latte and waited. The moment the cup dropped, she grabbed it, holding it like a small source of comfort.

Her eyes dropped back to her phone as she typed a message for her dad, letting him know she was already at the airport.

And that was when she collided with someone.

Hard.

Her cup jerked. Coffee splashed. The smell hit her before the shock even settled.

“Oh my God…” she gasped, looking up.

A tall young man in a sharply tailored coat stared at the brown stain spreading across his shirt. And not just any shirt, it's a John Lennon shirt. 

He looked from the stain to Melody with pure disbelief.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped. “Are you blind?”

Melody froze. The embarrassment, the exhaustion, the heartbreak all of it gathered in her chest like a storm.

“I…I’m so sorry,” she stuttered. “I didn’t see you. I’m really, really sorry.”

He stepped back, staring at the stain like she had stabbed him.

“Do you have any idea how much this shirt costs?” he hissed. “

Her cheeks heated, her hands shook. People were glancing. She hated attention. Especially now.

“I said I’m sorry,” she repeated gently.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this.” He looked at her like she was an inconvenience.

Melody inhaled shakily. “I can pay to dry clean it. Or clean it myself.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “You? Clean this? Lady, please. Don’t insult yourself.”

Her heart cracked. Not at him, but at the timing. The insult. The condescension.

He had no idea how close she was to breaking.

He kept going. “People like you don’t even look where you’re going. You just…”

“Stop,” Melody said sharply.

He blinked.

She lifted her head fully now, her eyes darker from exhaustion, her voice shaking with anger she didn’t have the strength to hide.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” she said. “You don’t know me. I said I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

“An accident?” he scoffed. “This shirt costs more than your life.”

“Oh, shut up,” Melody snapped, surprising even herself. “Why do you think your clothes are more important than basic kindness? It’s just a shirt, sir. A shirt. You’re acting like I poured acid on your skin.”

His jaw dropped slightly.

She stepped back, holding the empty coffee cup in her trembling hand.

“And don’t you dare assume what I can or can’t afford,” she added, breathless. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”

For a moment, he was speechless.

Melody shook her head, turned around, and walked away before she started crying in front of him.

The stranger stood there, stunned, staring at the stain and then at her retreating figure. His jaw tightened.

“How dare she?” he muttered under his breath. His frustration wasn’t just about the shirt it was the audacity, the confidence, the way she snapped back.

Melody didn’t look back.

She found her seat again, her hands trembling uncontrollably. The moment she sat, the tears she’d held back rolled silently down her cheeks. Not because of the stranger. But because she had been holding herself together for too long. And she was cracking.

When her boarding group was called, she rose quietly, wiped her face, and dragged her suitcase toward the gate. She didn’t look around. 

……..

The flight was quiet.

Melody sat by the window, staring out at the runway lights. Her mind replayed everything Brandon’s moans, the blonde woman’s face, the betrayal that felt like a slap.

He didn’t apologize after she confronted him, he didn't even try to convince her that what she saw wasn't real. 

He simply, grabbed some clothes, muttered a cold “I’m sorry you had to see that,” and left.

She shut her eyes, letting a single tear slide down. She wasn’t staying in a city where every street reminded her of him.

She was starting again.

Even if her heart hadn’t caught up yet.

………

When the plane landed, Melody felt her stomach twist with nerves. New York City. A place she’d only seen in movies and dreams she once thought were too big for her. Walking through the airport, she felt small. Not because of the crowd, but because of everything she carried inside her.

She scanned the arrivals area nervously.

And then.

“Melody!”

Her friend Tara ran toward her, waving wildly, her curly hair bouncing, her face lit up with joy and relief. Melody dropped her suitcase and hugged her tightly, so tightly her ribcage hurt. Tara held her just as tight, rubbing her back.

“You made it,” Tara whispered into her hair. “I’m so glad you made it.”

Melody’s breath shook. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You came to the right place,” Tara said softly. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Melody pulled back, trying to smile. Tara brushed her thumb gently under her eyes.

“God, your eyes are so red,” she whispered. “You must’ve cried the whole night.”

Melody nodded.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tara said. “New York is cold as hell today.” They grabbed Melody’s suitcase and walked out into the bustling winter air.

They reached Tara’s car, and as soon as they got in, Tara squeezed Melody’s hand.

As she got into the car, she made a silent prayer, she didn't believe in Christmas no more, but she was hoping for a Christmas miracle.

The twelve days of Christmas song was blasting in the car.

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me… “Cheating on a platter of gold.” How thoughtful.