Page 1 of Letting Go

Chapter 1

I need to go home. That’s all I can think about as the taxi slices through traffic on the way to the airport. My chest’s still tight from walking out of that building. Can’t believe what just happened. Can’t believe what I just did.

But it was a long time coming.

“We’re here,” the driver says, snapping me back.

I hand him a wad of crumpled bills, no clue how much, mumble a quick thanks, and step into the terminal. A last-minute ticket’s going to bleed me dry. Don’t care. Should care. Don’t.

I ask for the next flight to Chicago. Two hours. Expensive. Doesn’t matter. I hand over my card without hesitation.

With my boarding pass in hand, I head straight for the bar. Order something strong. With no ice, no garnish, just the burn.

Think about calling Michael. Just to hear his voice. But if I do, I’ll cry. And once I start, I won’t stop. Not here. Not in the middle of a crowded airport.

The bartender slides the drink over without any small talk. It hits exactly where I need it to.

“I should’ve left earlier,” I mutter, not really to him. “Now I’m getting blamed for something that might cost the company millions.”

He gives a vague nod, already pulled away by a shout from the other end of the bar. That’s fine. Probably better that way. I sip slow. No point in getting kicked off the flight for being drunk.

Eventually, they start boarding. I drop a tip and head for the gate. Missed the business class check-in while I was drinking. Now I’m at the back of the line. Figures.

When I finally get to my seat, window, business class, the one comfort I allowed myself, there’s a girl already in it. Legs crossed, settled in like she belongs.

“Excuse me,” I say. “I think you’re in the wrong seat.”

She sighs like I’ve ruined her life. “Dammit. I thought this one was empty. I’m all settled. Why don’t you just take mine? It’s only a few rows back.”

She’s young in college, maybe. Alone. Normally, I’d avoid the confrontation. Let it go.

Not today.

“No,” I say. “This is my seat.”

The line behind me is gone now. We’re the last ones. She doesn’t move. Just waits, like I’ll give up.

A flight attendant appears. “Is there a problem here?”

Before I can open my mouth, the girl jumps in. “She’s trying to make me move.”

I hold out my boarding pass. Let it speak for me.

The attendant checks it, then asks for the girl’s. “You’re in 28E. I need you to move to your assigned seat, please.”

She huffs, drags herself up, mutters something under her breath.

“Bitch.”

The only reason I don’t grab her hair is because I want to get home. Maybe I’ve had one too many. Maybe I’ve just had enough.

When the alcohol comes around after take-off, I don’t say no.

The flight is long. Way too long. I can’t stop replaying what happened. Goddammit. All the hours I poured into that job. All the trips I cancelled. I even worked through Christmas. Christmas. For what?

The fights with Michael, the way we’d snap at each other over nothing, those feel irrelevant now. At least Michael will be happy. Not because of how ithappened, but because it did. He’s wanted this for so long. He’ll breathe easier now, having me home.

It’s barely 2 p.m., but I’m already halfway home in my head. I think about calling Michael, but what’s the point? He’ll just leave early, and I’m already making this worse in my mind. No need to drag him into my chaos yet. We’ll talk when he gets home. Maybe I’ll call Hannah when I get there. It’s been a while since we caught up.

---