Why Does Sam Leave In 'On The Far Side Of The Mountain'?

When my husband once again chooses to abandon me to celebrate his true love's birthday, I finally let go. He takes his true love stargazing; I don't cause a fuss. He buys her an expensive scarf, but all I do is smile. I even tell him to buy another hat—it's pretty cold. He thinks I've finally learned to be obedient. However, he has no idea I've secretly renounced my citizenship to join Doctors Without Borders. By the time he comes to his senses, I've vanished without a trace.

While packing Ethan's flight bag, I found a custom solo wings pin. The engraving on the back read: For Lark, to celebrate your first solo. Beneath the box sat the receipt for Skyler's flight school tuition, paid in full by Ethan, along with a photograph. In the photo, she was sitting in the pilot's seat. Ethan's gloved hand rested over hers on the control yoke. Seven years ago, I had sat in that same seat. Back then, I was one step away from my first solo flight, but Ethan talked me out of it again and again, always claiming it was "for my own good." He said flying was dangerous, that someone had to stay home and take care of things. I put down my logbook, pressed the wrinkles out of every one of his captain's uniforms, and spent seven years living by his flight schedule. Only now did I finally understand. It wasn't that he didn't want to take anyone flying. He just didn't want to take me. What made it even more absurd was that the night Skyler first flew through the clouds, I was alone in a hospital, losing our baby. I called him over a dozen times. At three in the morning, he finally called back, his voice flat and indifferent. "I just took Lark through the clouds. Next time something comes up, give me a heads-up." I put the wings pin back exactly where I found it, then pulled the crumpled ultrasound printout from the bottom of the drawer and tucked it inside the logbook that had been gathering dust for seven years. This time, I wasn't going to wait for him to look back. He convinced me to leave the pilot's seat, then turned around and put another woman in the sky. So I would leave him and take back the sky that had always been mine.

The day I was released from prison was New Year's Eve. My fiancée had promised to pick me up. Instead, she was busy ringing in the New Year with the man she had always loved. By the time I found my way back home from memory, she was in the middle of a cheering crowd, wrapped in his arms. "Nancy, Samuel's getting out today. Aren't you going to pick him up?" someone asked. Nancy Wheeler let out a soft laugh, her red lips curling slightly. "Pick him up? What's more important, him or New Year's? He's been in there for years. One more day won't kill him." "Aren't you afraid he'll be angry?" Colder than the wind and snow outside were Nancy's indifferent words. "He's the one who made a mistake. What right does he have to be angry? The fact that I was still willing to be with him was already a mercy." As the words left her mouth, she lifted her gaze, only to meet mine. The smile froze on her face. The cold light from inside fell across me, and something in my heart froze with it. She said she was still willing to have me. However, I no longer wanted her.

Amara is the lowest-ranking omega in the Silver Ridge Pack. Orphaned at twelve, she survived by making herself useful — cooking, cleaning, tending wounds nobody else had patience for. She never expected the Moon Goddess to pair her with Alpha Kael, the most powerful wolf in the region. But on the night of the mating ceremony, in front of the entire pack, Kael looks her in the eyes and says three words that shatter her world: I reject you. He chooses Vanessa, the strong, beautiful daughter of a neighboring alpha. A political match. A power move. Amara is nothing to him. But instead of crumbling, Amara does what no rejected omega has ever done. She walks out of the pack. Alone. With nothing. In the wild, she discovers a group of rogues — wolves cast out from their packs for being different. A blind warrior. A mother with a scarred face. Twin pups with no parents. And leading them all, a scarred, silent alpha named Ronan who trusts no one and speaks even less. Amara also discovers something inside herself she never knew existed. Her hands can heal. Not just wounds but broken bonds, fractured spirits, even cursed wolves. She carries a gift so rare the Moon Goddess herself has not granted it in three hundred years. As Amara builds a new pack from broken pieces, word of the Healing Wolf spreads across the region. Packs that once ignored her now seek her help. Alphas who never knew her name now bow their heads. And Kael, the alpha who threw her away, realizes that the quiet omega he rejected was the most powerful wolf he will ever meet. He comes looking for her. But Amara is no longer his. She is no longer anyone's. She is her own.

A fierce storm erupts on a mountain peak at 25,561 feet, trapping me in the mountain camp under heavy snow. My husband, the leader of the mountain excursion squad, ignores my desperate pleas and hands the last oxygen tank to his beloved true love. "You're a professional climber—you won't die from missing a few breaths," he snaps. "Olivia has always been frail. Without oxygen, she's done for!" I watch as the two of them lean on each other, making their way down the cliffside, and I fall into complete despair. He's already forgotten that my body hasn't been able to survive without oxygen at high altitudes since saving him two years ago.

A blizzard had buried the mountain, turning every road into a death trap. Locals called it Deadman's Pass—seventy-two icy switchbacks with zero room for error. As the only person who had ever made it through without a scratch, I'd just gotten a million-dollar rescue call from beyond the final curve. Ten years ago, I went there once. My seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya, was skydiving with her classmates when a violent air current forced an emergency landing. The rescue came too late. She died there. Later, I learned my husband, Jayden Boone, had ignored Maya's safety. He poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into the rescue effort and redirected every team to save his ex's daughter instead. The girl had only sprained her ankle on a hiking trip. The day Maya died, I walked away from my career as a professor and stayed here, living as a broke driver. I risked my life running Deadman's Pass again and again until I knew every turn by heart. In the ten years since, no one else had died on that road. Today, a friend shoved a million-dollar rescue job in front of me and told me to leave right away. I looked at the face in the photo—the one I could never forget. Then I smiled and tossed my keys onto the table. "I can't take this job."