Part 1: The Moment Everything Broke
“Okay, stop,” Rosie hissed, so quietly that if I hadn’t been right next to her I might’ve missed it entirely. Her hand shot out to the side—not touching me, not quite—but like she wanted to physically block my next step forward. “Don’t come any farther.”
I was pushing the luggage cart, my shoulders already burning from wrestling her three giant suitcases out of my truck and stacking them just right so they wouldn’t topple over in the airport terminal.
I thought she meant she wanted to take a picture before we went inside, or needed to check her passport one more time, or something else completely normal. I gave her a confused half-smile. “What?
I’m just walking you to security.”
Her eyes flicked past my shoulder, toward the check-in counters ahead. That’s when I saw them: Lauren and Ashley. Two perfectly curated silhouettes framed by the chaos of the busy terminal.
They were leaning casually against a column, their luggage smaller than what Rosie called her “carry-on,” dressed like they’d stepped straight out of a fashion magazine spread instead of into the economy-class line. Expensive fabrics that draped just right, effortless hair that had clearly taken an hour to achieve, white sneakers so pristine they’d obviously never met actual pavement. Lauren’s gaze brushed over me with the efficiency of a scanner.
Faded jeans worn thin at the knees, steel-toe work boots scuffed from actual jobsites, hoodie with my structural engineering company logo printed on it in cracked white ink that had seen too many wash cycles. Her nose twitched. Just barely.
That little wrinkle people do when something smells slightly off but they’re too polite to actually gag out loud. Ashley didn’t even bother to hide her reaction. Her phone was already in her hand, manicured thumb hovering like she’d been about to record something for her Instagram story, then clearly reconsidered when she caught sight of me standing behind Rosie’s mountain of designer luggage.
Rosie’s entire posture went tight, like someone had just pulled a drawstring up her spine. She turned back to me, smile frozen on her face, eyes wide with a kind of alarm I’d never seen pointed at me before in our two years together. “This is far enough,” she said through her teeth, voice sharp as broken glass.
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