"Hello..." My voice was heavy with sleep, dragging itself through the phone like honey.
"What the hell, Jolls! What are you still doing in bed? It's already six in the morning!"
That sharp, familiar voice could only belong to Sandy.
Sandy had been my partner in crime since the first day I stepped foot in high school. Where there was trouble-or laughter-you'd always find the two of us side by side. But today wasn't just any day. Today was the day I'd been dreaming about for months. The day I would finally taste freedom.
They say joining university is the beginning of real freedom. I used to roll my eyes at that. But standing at the edge of this new chapter, I finally understood. And if I was excited, Sandy was over the moon.
"Okay... okay... I'm getting up," I groaned, hoping she'd let me off the hook.
"Oooh, babes. Not so fast. Don't think I don't know you. I'm not hanging up until I hear you out of that bed." Her laughter bubbled through the line, light and mischievous. She loved pushing my buttons, and I, foolishly, always let her.
"Sand-"
"Jolls! Are you up?" My mom's voice cut through the moment like a blade. "You better be ready by now. We're supposed to be out of here by seven. You know how far we're going." I could hear her footsteps pounding down the hallway, closing in fast.
"Bye, bitch. You better be up before she gets in. See you soon," Sandy whispered through a giggle and hung up.
"Shit. Shit. Shit." I flew out of bed, heart racing. The last thing I needed was my mom's wrath-not today of all days. She was already in a foul mood about me choosing a university that was far from home. If it hadn't been for the scholarship, she probably would have found a way to keep me close forever.
By the time she swung open my door, my bed was made and I was already in the shower.
"Jolls, are you still not done? We have to leave early!" Her frustration echoed through the steam.
"I'm almost done, Mom. Fifteen minutes!"
The warm water hit my skin, stealing the last bits of sleep from my body. I moved quickly, like someone racing against time. Five minutes later, I was out-drying off, slathering lotion onto my skin, and pulling on the outfit I'd laid out the night before. Black cargo pants. A black t-shirt. White Nikes. My silver cross chain. And, of course, my old faithful watch-the one that had stayed on my wrist through every shower, heartbreak, and memory.
I slung my bags over my shoulder and rushed downstairs.
My mom was pacing in the hallway, muttering to herself. "What the hell is taking so long? Must she be late everywhere..." She froze when she saw me.
"I was about to come get you," she said, spinning back toward the kitchen.
"Lucky me," I whispered, following her.
"I packed you something to eat on the way," she said, pressing a warm container into my hands. "It's a long trip, and I know you. You won't eat until you're starving."
I smiled faintly. "Thanks," I whispered, almost too softly. It was rare for us to have moments like this-small, quiet ones.
"Did you pack everything you're going to need?" she asked with one eyebrow raised, the classic mom interrogation look.
"Yes, Mom," I sighed.
A few minutes later, she returned with two bottles of water and a soda, sliding them into her bag. Meanwhile, I was on my phone texting Sandy, who was probably already dressed and grinning at the thought of me panicking.
"Put that away and grab your bags," she ordered. "We're late."
We carried everything to the car. I slipped into the passenger seat, while she placed her handbag in the back before starting the engine. As the house shrank in the rearview mirror, I pressed my forehead against the cold window, exhaling slowly.
Finally.
For the first time, the air felt different. It wasn't just another morning. It was the beginning of something new.
The drive to the airport was mostly quiet, except for the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the breakfast I ate in the car. Toast. Coffee. A taste of normal in a morning that felt anything but.
Twenty minutes later, the airport loomed ahead, big and blinding under the morning light. My chest tightened-not with fear, but with the thrill of becoming.
We sat together in the waiting area, the silence between us heavier now. My mom broke it first.
"When you get there, find a hotel and book it for at least a week," she said firmly. "You need somewhere to stay before you find an apartment. And make sure you get admitted today. It's the deadline. If you don't..." She didn't have to finish the sentence. I already knew.
"I won't forget," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.
She turned to me then-not as the woman who barked orders, but as my mom. The one who'd raised me, fought with me, and, deep down, loved me in her own guarded way.
"I have to go," she said softly. "Safe travels. Take care of yourself, sweetie." She pulled me into a tight hug, pressing a warm kiss to my forehead.
I managed a small smile. "Okay, Mom. Bye."
"We'll talk," she said, turning away.
And just like that, she was gone.
I was alone now-sitting in the waiting area with my bags, my racing heart, and a future that was waiting for me on the other side of a boarding gate.
Minutes later, I was on the plane, my seatbelt clicking into place. The engines roared to life beneath me, and as we lifted off the ground, so did I.
I wasn't just leaving home.
I was finally stepping into my story.
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