Ma'am, please fasten your seatbelt!"
The flight attendant's sharp voice cut through my thoughts as the private jet shook with turbulence. I clicked the belt without looking up from my phone, where Noah's desperate texts kept flooding in.
"Belle, please answer me. I love you. This was all a mistake."
I hit delete. Then blocked his number totally.
The plane rose higher into the dark sky, and with every mile that passed beneath us, I felt the old me dying. The naive girl who believed in love. The fool who gave up everything for a man who threw it all away.
She was gone forever.
"Would you like something to drink, Miss Whitmore?" the waitress asked softly.
Miss Whitmore. The name felt strange after four years of just being Belle. But I was going to have to get used to it again.
"Water," I said. My voice sounded different. Colder.
