The plane's engines roared to life, and a flutter of nerves and excitement ran through me. Beside me, Aaron adjusted his seatbelt, glancing at me with a small, reassuring smile.
"You nervous?" he asked quietly.
I shook my head, forcing a grin. "A little. It's Chicago—not… New York traffic, or Victor's city."
He chuckled softly, warm and grounding. "I promise, Chicago is easier. You'll love it."
The takeoff smoothed out, and I pressed my forehead to the cool window, watching the city shrink beneath us.
For the first time in weeks, I didn't feel chased by guilt, fear, or obsession. Just the steady hum of possibility—and Aaron's presence beside me.
The flight passed faster than I expected. We spoke quietly, sharing small stories about our lives, laughing at memories that weren't so long ago.
Somewhere between the clouds, the distance between us—the distrust, the past mistakes—began to dissolve. I realized he was trusting me again. And it was intoxicating.
