Chapter 4I'll Leave So You Can Be Happy

With one month left before our departure, Claire finally cornered me in the visa center parking lot.

Logan's car was parked behind her. Days of distance had worn through her patience. There was none of her usual smile left, only confusion and anger.

"How long are you going to sulk?"

I stopped and looked back at her calmly. "I'm not sulking. I've just figured out which road I'm taking."

"Then why don't you answer my texts, get ready for school with me, or even come over for dinner?" Her words came faster and faster, her voice climbing. "We grew up together. After all these years, how can you push everyone away over some misunderstanding you won't even explain?"

I looked at her steadily and named the truth at the center of it. "It isn't a misunderstanding. I finally understand. You never wanted a life planned for you, and you wanted me even less because obligation was all that tied us together."

Claire froze. The accusation in her eyes vanished.

Logan strolled over, still playing the gentle mediator. "Man, everyone assumes you two are together. Claire talks tough, but she's softhearted. Don't hold it against her."

Before I could answer, Claire reached out and linked her arm tightly through Logan's.

Her voice was clear and certain, light with the relief of breaking loose. "He's the one I've always wanted."

She said it cleanly and without shame, but she was not looking at Logan beside her. She was staring straight at me.

She was waiting for me to lose control, to demand answers, to cling the way I always had, to crack.

I only nodded. "That's good. I hope you both get what you want and stay happy."

Claire's fingers stiffened on Logan's arm. The expectation in her eyes collapsed, replaced by a flicker of surprise and panic.

In the days that followed, Claire and Logan made their relationship public. Photos outside the school, shots of them walking downtown, the leather cord Logan had braided around her wrist, all of it advertised their closeness.

Still, Logan texted me late at night, insisting that Claire was only trying to provoke me, that she was temporarily confused, and that I should not take it seriously or give up on her for good.

I never replied. I ignored every one of them.

The night before we left, the Harts put together a farewell dinner.

Claire sat across from me, the leather cord on her wrist impossible to miss. She told everyone plainly that she was with Logan now. Victoria remained silent for a long time, regret filling her eyes. James only told her to think carefully and take responsibility for her choice.

When it came to me, I took the silver compass I had kept all those years out of my pocket and set it in the middle of the table.

"I'm giving this back," I said calmly. "It shouldn't be holding anyone to a promise anymore."

Victoria's eyes filled with tears. She did not ask me to stay. She just held my hand tightly and said, "No matter where you go, this will always be your home."

James went carefully through our flight details and Margaret's medication list, then pushed a bank card into my hand and would not hear a refusal, saying only that it was for emergencies.

Claire stayed silent through all of it. She probably still believed that after that night I would go to the University of Oregon with her as planned and stay at her side as planned.

She did not know that Margaret's luggage and mine were already packed in the trunk, or that a car service would take us straight to the airport before dawn, away from a city that held all my old ties and pain.

The departure lounge at Portland International Airport was crowded and loud, but my mind was clear. I opened the account from ten years in the future one last time and typed my final goodbye.

"Now the two of you can finally have the four years you wanted, with nothing holding you back."

The instant the message sent, the page refreshed and the account was gone, as if it had never existed, every trace of it wiped away.

I put the phone away, took Margaret's hand, and walked with her toward the gate.

She asked me quietly whether going that far from home frightened me.

I answered honestly, "Yes. It does.

"But being afraid doesn't mean I'm turning back."

Seven hours across the ocean, over mountains and water, sealing off everything behind us.

Meanwhile, back in Portland, Claire came home late and found my room empty. The bookshelf, the closet, the desk, every trace of me was gone, as if I had never spent more than a decade there.