CHAPTER 5 - A Goodbye and The Arrival
Scarlet’s POV
For years, I had believed that Caspian’s love for me was real, that I wasn’t just a stand-in for someone— worse, it was even my step-sister. And now she was back, I had to disappear, like a discarded toy he no longer needed.
I straightened, pushing myself away from the counter where the caramel cake settled untouched. I’ve already made my decision…
This wasn’t love. This wasn’t the life I wanted. And if Caspian couldn’t see my worth, then it was time for me to leave. I wouldn’t stay here being a martyr for a love that was never mine.
~
The morning light filtered through the curtains, as I began packing my belongings. The apartment felt colder than usual, its once-cozy corners were now shadowed by memories I wanted to forget. This place that I had considered my home now turned to be a place I wanted to escape from.
I folded my clothes like a mechanical robot that was set to do what I had programmed, blocking the emotions and thoughts that were threatening to spill, preventing myself from going back from decisions, and shattering my resolve. My favorite sweater, tees, and boots, even the small trinkets I had collected over the years— all of them went into the suitcase without hesitation. I was set on leaving this place polished, without leaving any trace, like I never existed.
The walls seemed to watch as I moved through the apartment, clearing shelves and emptying drawers, taking my personals, and I left behind anything that belonged to Caspian, refusing to carry even a sliver of his presence with me.
When the packing was done, I cleaned. The floors, the counters, the bathroom— every inch of the space, every corner of the apartment. I scrubbed away the traces of myself, returning the apartment to the state it had been in before I moved in. It was strangely cathartic, like erasing a chapter of my life.
By the time night fell, the apartment was spotless. My suitcase stood by the door, packed and ready, while my heart felt heavy and uncertain. I wanted to be sure of my decision, to leave without regret, my heart still screaming for a chance, but my mind was already set on moving on.
I sank onto the couch, my phone clutched tightly in my hand. Maybe I owed it to myself to try one last time. To see if there was anything left to salvage.
My fingers hovered over Caspian’s contact before I pressed the call button.
It rang once. Twice. Three times. No answer.
I tried again. And again.
Finally, the call connected, only to end abruptly. He had declined it.
The truth settled over me like a shroud, heavy, yet clear of the message. He was not busy. He was not asleep. He was refusing to talk to me. He had chosen, decided not to talk to me.
I stared at the phone, the final thread of hope snapping under the weight of his rejection. That was it. The last sign I needed, and the push I needed to move forward without him in my life.
It’s time to go.
~
It was still dark outside when I wheeled my suitcase out of the apartment. The cool morning air nipped at my skin as I locked the door behind me, the click echoing in the silence.
The cab I booked arrived promptly with its headlights cutting through the pre-dawn gloom. The driver greeted me with a polite smile as he loaded my luggage into the trunk.
“Heading to the airport?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied, steadying myself despite the storm raging inside me. I was getting an urge to look back at the apartment building for the last time but I chose not to. There was no point looking back now that I was choosing to move forward.
I entered the cab and shut the door as the driver drove through the quiet road, the city still asleep as we passed through its empty streets. I leaned my head against the window, watching the familiar landmarks fade into the distance. With every mile, I felt a mix of relief and sadness, leaving the place I had called home.
When we arrived at the airport, the driver helped me load my luggage to a cart and I paid him additional tips to thank him. As I pushed inside, travelers moved briskly through the space, searching, transacting, and some crying while leaving their loved ones.
I took my passport out and headed to check in with my hands trembling slightly as I handed over my documents, realizing how big this decision I was making. The attendant smiled at me as she checked my details in the system.
“Enjoy your flight,” she said, handing back my passport and my boarding pass.
I nodded, returning a polite smile, as I clutched my documents tightly as I moved toward security. The line was short, and soon I found myself standing barefoot as my belongings went through the scanner.
When I reached the gate, the announcement for boarding echoed through the terminal.
I stepped onto the plane with a deep breath, my heart hammering in my chest as I found my seat by the window.
Finally.
The engines roared to life, and the plane began its ascent. I watched the city shrink below me, its lights twinkling like distant stars, and I felt my chest contract, sending a wave of discomfort as I fought myself from crying.
As the clouds swallowed the city from view, I realized I wasn’t just leaving behind a place— I was leaving behind a version of myself. The one who stayed. The one who endured. The one who loved without reservations.
For the first time, I felt free.
And now, there was no turning back.
