"Goodbye, Crest. Take care — and if they ask anything stupid, call me immediately," Julian said, pulling her into a brief hug.
By they, he meant his parents.
Just in case.
They'd promised to give him full freedom — no interference, no pressure — but Julian had learned long ago that promises could break faster than glass.
Crest smiled faintly, her usual composed tone softening. "I will. Take care of yourself, okay? I expect good news from your next match."
Julian nodded, and for a fleeting second, he saw something motherly in her gaze — pride, mixed with quiet worry. Then she turned toward the terminal, her silhouette fading into the airport crowd.
Her departure felt quieter than he expected — like a door closing softly on one part of his life.
The airport noise dimmed behind the glass, leaving him alone with that familiar silence he wore like armor.
The moment lingered in silence.
Then David clapped a hand on Julian's shoulder. "Come on. We've got someone to meet."
