Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 09

Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 09

After Nathan left Sierra Vista, my life went quiet.

Sophie told me over text that Nathan got really sick when he got back.

Fever of a hundred and four. Three days in the hospital on an IV.

When he got out, he asked the company to transfer him to cargo. No more passenger flights.

“I heard every time he went into the cabin and saw the empty right jumpseat, he’d just zone out. Almost caused an accident. So they moved him to freight.” Sophie sounded almost satisfied.

As for Amber Reid—without Nathan as her shield, all her “privileges” at the airline disappeared.

People she’d stepped on over the years stepped right back. She couldn’t take it. She quit.

I read the words on my screen. Felt nothing.

Whatever happened to them was none of my business anymore.

…

A month later.

Rainy season hit Sierra Vista. Soft drizzle pattered on the stone paths.

The mailman rang the gate.

“Clara Bennett? Local delivery.”

I took an umbrella and went out. Signed for a flat cardboard box.

The return address was Nathan’s.

I went inside and cut the tape with scissors.

Two things were inside.

First: a signed Divorce agreement. And a debit card.

In the agreement, he voluntarily gave up ownership of the Lakeview Penthouse. Transferred it to my name. Covered all the fees.

Under the debit card was a note: “This is everything I’ve saved over the years. Passcode is your birthday. I’ve moved everything out of the apartment. The keys are with the property manager. It’s the only way I know how to make it right.”

I looked at the terms and put the agreement away.

I wasn’t going to refuse. It was eight years of my life. I earned it.

At the bottom of the box was one more thing.

A delicate wooden music box.

It was shaped like a small mountain. No plane. No cockpit. No teddy bear.

Just a setting sun carved from dark red wood, resting quietly on

the peak.

I turned the crank.

A clear melody filled the room.

It was my favorite song.

“I made this myself at some little shop in Iceland. There’s no thirty-thousand-foot view in there. Just the mountains and the sunsets you always loved. Clara… I hope you find some peace. And I hope every sunset you see from now on is a good one.”

On the back of the note, his handwriting was messy.

I didn’t feel moved. Didn’t feel soft.

Looking at that music box, I just felt a complicated ache.

Not for Nathan. For the girl I used to be. The one who waited night after night for someone to see her.

Eight years. He’d finally, truly seen me.

He finally knew what I liked. What I wanted.

But he figured it out too late. I didn’t need it anymore.

I closed the music box lid. Put it and the note together at the bottom of my storage chest.

I wasn’t going to throw it in the trash on purpose—because that would mean I still cared.

I just treated it like something I didn’t need anymore. Locked it away in a corner of my memory.