Chapter 7

December 31st. My last day countdown to leaving.

I'd carefully done my makeup, chosen a royal blue dress, topped with the cashmere coat Noah gave me last year. Stripped of my daily pilot uniform, the mirror showed a stranger's softness.

I stood under the appointed star lights, waiting from afternoon until dusk, from twilight deepening into night, but Noah never appeared.

My phone screen dimmed and brightened, brightened and dimmed. Finally, after an agonizing ten-second silence, I pressed that familiar number.

The ringtone played until it auto-disconnected before being answered. Noah's exhausted voice came through: "Skyler, Bella's having acute gastroenteritis. I'm at the hospital with her. I'll come find you later..."

Before he finished, the call abruptly ended.

My heart plummeted as my finger uncontrollably clicked on Instagram. Bella had just updated:

[Welcoming the New Year in my rightful place #CaptainsExclusive #Position82]

In the photo, she wore sexy sleepwear leaning against the cockpit chair, holding a champagne flute. Beside the seat lay an opened box of condoms.

My mind went blank, then I couldn't help laughing. Laughing and laughing, I pressed my aching chest, gasping for air.

Noah, they say liars must swallow a thousand needles—how many times have you lied to me?

Times Square glowed with neon brilliance at night, crowds surging, beautiful as an unreal dream.

I steadied my trembling hand, pulling out my phone to photograph the scene before me. So what if Noah wasn't here to take my picture? From now on, I'd be my own photographer.

Walking slowly along Broadway, I carefully captured every familiar sight with my lens.

At ten PM, Noah finally called. "Skyler, I'll be later. Find a café to sit and wait for me, don't get cold."

I looked at the couples around me embracing for warmth, knuckles white gripping my phone. "How much longer must I wait?"

"I'll try to make it before midnight, definitely spend New Year's with you, take your photos."

Thinking of him beside Bella right now, yet making such confident promises, I found it absurdly laughable.

Gazing at the flashing neon sea before me, I said softly, "I'll wait until midnight."

Say goodbye at midnight—our last meeting. If he breaks his word again, he'll never see me again in this lifetime.

After hanging up, I leaned against the cold railing, quietly watching the boiling crowd and waiting.

Eleven o'clock. Eleven-thirty. Eleven fifty-nine.

Times Square grew more crowded, the giant screen starting the countdown. As surrounding couples shouted "Happy New Year" and kissed under fireworks, Noah never appeared.

On my phone screen, Bella had updated again:

[Welcoming New Year's with position 83, Times Square's sky full of neon lighting up our twenties and thirties.]

Brilliant fireworks bloomed overhead, reflecting on my phone screen. I calmly put away my phone, my heartbeat so steady it surprised even me.

The cold wind stung my cheeks, but I didn't care. Only after the crowds dispersed and the neon dimmed did I flag a taxi home.

Just as I got in, my phone dinged—a message from Aurora Airlines' GF028 crew chat.

[Welcome Captain Skyler!] [Happy New Year!]

I took a deep breath and replied: "Happy New Year. Looking forward to flying with you all."

Then I blocked all of Noah's contacts and began final packing. I folded that cashmere coat neatly and placed it on the sofa, like completing a farewell ritual.

I pulled out a sticky note and wrote my final words: "Noah, I'm leaving. Wishing you and Bella continued success unlocking all 108 positions!"

Placing the note on the coffee table, I dragged my suitcase out of this home I'd lived in for five years without looking back.

Six AM, Kennedy Airport welcomed its first rays of dawn.

I changed into my captain's uniform with four-stripe shoulder boards, walking step by step toward the blue-and-white aircraft on the tarmac. "GF028" gleamed on the fuselage in the morning sun.

From now on, I was this plane's captain.

Settling into the cockpit, my hand gripped the control column as warmth spread from my palm through my body.

Adjusting the radio, I spoke clearly: "Kennedy Tower, Aurora Airlines GF028 ready, requesting maiden flight clearance."

The tower's response came through my headset: "Tower copies. GF028 cleared for takeoff. Safe skies, Captain Evans."

"Goodbye, Kennedy Tower." I pushed the throttle.

In the brilliant morning light, GF028 soared like a silver eagle, climbing into the clouds.

Perfect sunshine, promising future.

From now on, my life would follow GF028's route, never intersecting with Noah's.