The next few days were a blur of excitement and nerves. I pulled the suitcase from the closet and began to pack: scarves, sweaters, Paul’s old travel journal, and the little gold locket he had given me on our 20th anniversary. I told no one about my plans, not even Mark. It wasn’t out of spite; it was out of freedom. For once, I wanted to do something that was entirely mine.
When the day came, I stood at the airport surrounded by families hugging, couples holding hands, children laughing as they waited to board. I felt a small pang in my heart, but it didn’t last long. I reminded myself that this was my new beginning. On the plane, I found my seat next to a tall man with silver hair and kind eyes. He smiled warmly. “Headed home or heading out?” he asked.
