Thomas had been afraid.
He had failed.
Those were facts about him.
They were not facts about me.
I looked around the room one last time.
Then I dragged my suitcase toward the open doorway.
For most of my childhood, a packed bag meant somebody else had decided where I was going next.
This time, the choice was mine.
I stopped.
Set the suitcase down.
Then looked at Caroline.
“What time’s breakfast?”
She blinked.
“Eight.”
I gave her a small smile.
“Scrambled eggs, coffee, maybe a slice of toast. I’m easy.”
Caroline laughed through tears.
I wasn’t forgiving Thomas.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Taking his money was out of the question.
The board was still waiting for an answer.
But something inside me had changed.
I wasn’t staying because Thomas had ordered me to.
I wasn’t staying because I owed him seven days.
I wasn’t staying because I wanted his money.
I was staying because, for the first time in my life, I was making the decision myself.
Thomas had spent years believing he could decide what was best for me.
He had been wrong.
This time, nobody had decided where I belonged.
I had.
And for once, the bag could wait for me.
