[Adrian’s POV]

The suitcase sits by the door like an accusation.

I’ve been staring at it since we arrived yesterday, unable to look away for long, unable to stop imagining what would have happened if we hadn’t found her in time. The black fabric looks innocent enough—just a piece of luggage, the kind you’d see in any airport, any train station. But I know what it represents. Sophie on a train, alone, pregnant, running toward a future that didn’t include us. The thought makes my stomach churn with something between rage and grief, emotions I can’t quite separate or name.

But today, we’re dealing with it. Together.

The morning light streams through the windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. The apartment feels different now—charged with the weight of everything that’s happened, everything that’s been revealed. The air itself seems thicker, heavy with unspoken words and lingering fear.

Sophie stands in front of the suitcase, her posture rigid, her hands clenched at her sides. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s holding herself like she might shatter if she relaxes for even a moment. Cassian hovers nearby, ready to intervene if needed but giving her space to lead. His presence is steady, grounding—I’ve come to appreciate that about him in ways I never expected. I position myself slightly behind her, close enough to catch her if she falls but far enough to let her feel in control.

“I packed this at two in the morning,” she says, her voice distant. “I was so sure I was doing the right thing.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with regret. I can picture it—Sophie in the dark, tears streaming down her face, methodically folding clothes while her heart broke.

“What did you pack?” Cassian asks gently.

She laughs, the sound wet and broken. “Everything and nothing.” She crouches down and unzips the bag with trembling fingers. The zipper sounds impossibly loud in the quiet room. “Three sweaters I never wear. My passport. A book I haven’t finished. It’s like I was trying to cram an entire life into something carry-on sized.”

I watch her pull items out one by one, each piece of clothing a small confession. A scarf I gave her last Christmas—deep burgundy, soft cashmere, chosen because it matched her eyes when she laughed. Running shoes she used to wear when she still had energy for running, before the weight of secrets stole her strength. A framed photo of her and Cleo, tucked carefully between layers of fabric, protected like something precious.

“I was going to put this on my nightstand,” she says, holding up the photo. “In whatever sad apartment I ended up renting. So I’d have something familiar to look at when I couldn’t sleep.”

The image hits me harder than I expect—Sophie alone in a strange city, staring at a photo of her best friend in the dark, missing everything she left behind. The loneliness of that imagined future makes my throat tight.

“You would have called her eventually,” I say. “Cleo. You wouldn’t have been able to stay away.”

Sophie shakes her head. “I wasn’t planning to. I was going to send her a letter after I got settled. Explain everything. Ask her to forgive me.” Her voice cracks. “Ask her to tell you both that I was sorry.”

The confession lands like a physical blow. She had planned to disappear completely—not just from us, but from everyone who loved her. The isolation she was willing to embrace terrifies me more than anything else.

Cassian crouches beside her, his hand finding her shoulder. “But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t get the chance.” She looks at the empty suitcase, now just a hollow shell. “My body made the decision for me.”

The letters are now where she left them after, weighted under a book about pregnancy that she must have bought in those desperate weeks of hiding. The cover is bright and cheerful—What to Expect When You’re Expecting—a cruel contrast to the fear and isolation she must have felt reading it alone. She picks them up, one in each hand, and stares at them. Her name is written on the front of each in her careful handwriting, my name on one, Cassian’s on the other.

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