The door clicked shut behind me, sealing the house and Chris on the other side. The sound carried too much finality for what was supposed to be a simple precaution. My hand lingered on the handle a second longer than necessary before I forced myself to let go.
The evening air was cooler than I expected, brushing cold against my face as I stood on the porch, my suitcase handle clutched in one damp palm. It was light, barely half-packed, but the wheels clattered too loudly against the wooden steps as I pulled it down behind me. Each bump echoed like a countdown I didn't want to finish.
At the bottom, I paused. The car waited in the narrow drive, plain and forgettable, just as Anne had promised. Its windows reflected faint streaks of the porch light. I drew in a breath, braced myself, and walked slowly toward it. The gravel crunched beneath my shoes, steady, deliberate, every step hammering the truth deeper: I was leaving without him.
