14 — Departure

**JASMINE POV**

"Do we really need three suitcases for one week?" I asked Saph, who was currently sitting cross-legged on my bed, surrounded by roughly half my closet.

"You're representing Montgomery Industries on an international business trip and also potentially seducing your childhood sweetheart in a foreign country. This requires options, Jasmine."

"I am not seducing anyone. I'm closing a deal."

"Sure. That's why you packed the green dress that makes your eyes look like actual emeralds." She held it up, smirking.

"That's for the closing dinner. It's professional."

"It's professional the way a loaded gun is a paperweight." She folded it anyway and tucked it carefully into the second suitcase.

I'd called her over an hour ago under the pretense of needing packing help, which was true, but also mostly an excuse to have someone in the apartment with me while my nerves did their best impression of a livewire. A week. Alone with Japheth, in a country neither of us had been to, staying according to Kate, who'd heard it from Dad, who found the whole thing far too amusing  in the same suite.

"Have you told your dad yet? About the trip?" Saph asked, more careful than her usual teasing tone, folding a sweater with unnecessary focus on getting the corners even.

"I texted him this morning."

"And?"

I pulled up the message, more out of habit than any desire to reread it, and handed her my phone.

**DAD:** South Korea. With the Montgomery boy. Good. Make yourself useful to him there  this is exactly the kind of trip that solidifies your position with that family. Don't waste the opportunity being distracted by whatever's going on between you two. Business first, Jasmine.

Saph's face did something complicated as she read it, somewhere between disgust and pity. "He phrased an international business trip like a military deployment."

"That's Richard for you."

"Does he ever just say congratulations? Or have fun? Or literally anything a normal parent says?"

"Not that I can remember," I said, and I meant it lightly, but it landed heavier than I wanted it to. "It's fine. I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be used to it." Saph handed the phone back, her usual brightness dimmed for a moment. "You know that, right? That most people's dads don't talk about their own daughters like an asset performing below projections?"

"I know." I did know, logically. Kate had told me the same thing days ago, and some new, small part of me was even starting to believe it a little. "It doesn't change what he's going to keep saying, though. Or how much it still works on me, even when I know better."

"Well." Saph zipped the second suitcase closed with more force than strictly necessary. "For what it's worth, from someone who's known you almost as long as Kate has — you don't need to solidify anything with anyone. You earned that seat on the plane on your own. Richard doesn't get to take credit for that, no matter how many texts he sends."

I felt my throat tighten, the same way it had at the café with Kate, this strange new sensation of being defended by people who expected nothing from me in return.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"Don't get sentimental on me, I still have four more outfits to fit in this suitcase and you're wasting valuable emotional bandwidth I need for negotiating with your zipper." She grinned, and just like that the moment passed, gentle as it had come.

***

Aunt Abby met us for coffee before I left for the airport, insisting on it the way she insisted on most things  with enough warmth that saying no felt genuinely impossible.

"You'll love it there," she said, settling into the seat across from me, Kate and Saph crowded in on either side like a small, devoted committee. "I've been many times. Rich culture, incredible history. I still have the hanbok I wore on my last trip  I should dig it out and show you the pictures sometime."

"I did some research," I admitted. "I've been listening to BTS all week, even though I don't understand most of the lyrics."

"That's the spirit." She smiled, then grew a touch more serious, reaching over to pat my hand. "How are you feeling about the trip, Peach? Really."

"Nervous. Excited. A little of both, honestly."

"That's allowed." She squeezed my hand once. "You know, your mother's told me about your father's — expectations. Over the years." She said it delicately, the way you'd handle something sharp. "I want you to know something, and I mean this as someone who's watched you grow up alongside my own children. You don't owe this family anything beyond good, honest work, which you've already given tenfold. Whatever Richard's told you about debts and obligations  that's not how the Montgomerys see you. It's certainly not how I see you."

I blinked hard, unprepared for how much that landed.

"Thank you, Aunt Abby."

"Now." She straightened, her usual brightness returning in full force. "Your only actual job on this trip is to accompany Japheth to one meeting, be brilliant, which you already are, and then enjoy the rest of your week. You don't have to check in with any of us daily. We can survive without a full itinerary."

"I still have real work to do there," I said, mostly out of habit.

"Your only real job," Kate cut in, grinning, "is to have a good time and stop overthinking everything for five consecutive minutes. Possibly a personal record for you."

"I resent that."

"You'll thank me later."

We finished our coffee, and the three of them walked me as far as the car, hugging me in turns, Saph whispering something about condoms that made me swat her arm hard enough to make her yelp, Kate promising to handle anything that came up at the office while I was gone, Aunt Abby pressing one more warm hand to my cheek before I climbed into the car.

I looked back once as we pulled away, watching them wave from the sidewalk, and felt something settle in my chest that had nothing to do with nerves about the trip and everything to do with finally, slowly, starting to believe that the people who loved me the most weren't the ones sending texts about debts and obligations.

My phone buzzed one more time as the car merged onto the highway toward the airport.

**DAD:** Have a safe flight. Remember what I said.

I turned the phone face-down in my lap and looked out the window instead, watching the city blur past, and let myself, just for the length of the drive, choose not to answer it at all.