No Return Ticket for Our Lost Love Chapter 05

No Return Ticket for Our Lost Love Chapter 05

The flight touched down smoothly at Eastgrove International Airport.

The moment the intercom announced that electronic devices were permitted, I held down the power button to switch on my phone.

The second the screen lit up, my phone went entirely feral. The notification tones chimed in a relentless, chaotic barrage—over ninety-nine unread messages, every single one of them from Matthew.

I tapped open the chat.

Matthew: [I’m heading over to your campus today for a guest lecture. It’s my turn to come find you.]

Matthew: [Where the hell are you? You’re not in your dorm.]

Matthew: [Your roommate said you went to Eastgrove. What are you doing in Eastgrove?]

His tone shifted rapidly from confusion to laced anxiety.

Matthew: [Hannah, pick up your phone.]

Matthew: [Where did you go? Have you landed yet? Text me back the second you see this.]

The initial interrogation had dissolved, line by line, into sheer, unadulterated panic.

Even through a cold glass screen, I could perfectly envision him—eyebrows knit tight, pacing back and forth with his phone glued to his palm.

Standing by the exit of the arrivals terminal, I stared at the wall of text and felt nothing but absolute stillness. Out of sheer courtesy, I typed a brief response.

Hannah: [Just landed. Handling some personal business.]

I locked the screen, slipped the phone into my pocket, and walked toward the taxi line without looking back.

The next day’s interview went flawlessly.

The editor-in-chief slid my project proposal shut and tapped her palm on the desk, making the final call on the spot. “Can you start next month?”

“Yes,” I answered without a moment’s hesitation.

When I stepped out of the Eastgrove Publishing House headquarters, a warm, humid breeze swept across my face. I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick text to Vanessa: [I got it.]

Vanessa replied instantly with a string of exclamation points, followed immediately by another text: [Does he know yet? When are you going to tell him?]

I wrote back: [When I get back to Southerland.]

That night, Matthew’s call finally came through.

The moment I answered, I heard him let out a massive, ragged sigh of relief. His words came out rushed and breathless. “When are you flying back? I’ll come pick you up at the airport.”

“Tomorrow,” I said flatly.

“Okay.”

After hanging up, I looked out at the endless grid of city lights blanketing Eastgrove. Deep within my chest, my inner wolf spoke up for the first time in days: It’s beautiful here. This is where we’re going to live.

The following evening, Southerland Airport was teeming with people.

Even from a distance, I easily spotted Matthew standing near a concrete pillar. In his hand, he was holding a cup of hot cocoa—the drink I used to order on every single date.

The moment he saw me, he lifted the cup toward me.

I walked over. He held the drink out, desperately trying to make everything look completely normal. “Did you have fun in Eastgrove?”

I didn’t reach for the cup. Instead, I looked him dead in the eye and said, “I didn’t go there to have fun.”

He blinked, his hand freezing mid-air.

I kept my voice perfectly level. “I went to Eastgrove for an interview at Eastgrove Publishing House.”

“I passed. I start next month.”

With a sharp clatter, his car keys slipped from his other hand and hit the tiled floor.

All around us, travelers brushed past, wrapped in the noisy chaos of the terminal. Matthew bent down to retrieve his keys, his movements slow and rigid, like a rusted piece of machinery.

When he finally straightened back up, the cool, untouchable arrogance that usually defined his face had completely vanished, replaced by sheer, unblinking shock.

He took a sharp breath. “When did you decide this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Decisions are made slowly, piece by piece,” I said, looking at him calmly. “Telling you is just what I’m doing today.”

He stood entirely frozen, like a stone being hollowed out by a raging current. It took him half a minute just to force the next words out. “Then… what about me?”

“You’ll stay here, of course. You’ll inherit the Nightveil Pack soon and officially become the Alpha.” The corner of my mouth twitched into a faint, bitter smile. “Congratulations in advance. I’m sorry I won’t be around to attend your ascension ceremony.”

“Hannah, what the hell are you talking about?”

He looked at me, completely unraveled, his fingers tightening unconsciously around the paper cup until the hot cocoa threatened to warp the cardboard.

I locked my gaze onto his, delivering each word with absolute finality.

“I mean…”

“I’m leaving next month. And I’m never coming back.”