The Flight You Could Not Catch

On New Years Eve, I spent hours in the kitchen preparing a table full of her favorite dishes, waiting for Lauren to come home.

She didn't even glance at the spread. She just walked past it, heading straight to the bedroom to pack her suitcase.

Her voice was cold, almost detached. I cant spend New Year's with you this year.

I didnt say a word. I just sat down alone and started eating.

Right at the stroke of midnight, her first love posted on Instagram.

In the photo, Lauren was leaning intimately against his shoulder, the city skyline behind them exploding with brilliant, cascading fireworks.

The caption read: "She said as long as I need her, shell leave everything behind to be by my side."

I didn't call her screaming this time. I didn't demand answers. I just quietly tapped the heart icon to leave a like.

A second later, my phone rang. Laurens voice was breathless, panicked. "Jesse, please don't be mad. I promise I'll make it up to you next year..."

I let out a soft, self-mocking laugh. "Too bad we don't have a next year."

By the time Lauren finally came back, the holidays were long over.

In the past, I would have waited for her down in the lobby, eager to help with her bags. This time, I stayed upstairs.

Her text popped up: "Where are you?"

I took a slow bite of my lunch and typed back: "Come up. I'm eating."

A few minutes later, while I was rinsing my plate at the sink, the front door clicked open. Lauren rolled her suitcase into the kitchen, looking exhausted and out of breath.

She leaned against the counter, watching my back. "I haven't eaten all day. Can you make me some pasta?"

Normally, I would have dropped everything to cook for her. But today, I didn't even turn around.

"I don't have time. Grab something downstairs."

Laurens eyes flared with irritation, but she forced herself to keep her voice level. "I know you're still throwing a fit about New Year's, Jesse, but can we please not do this right now? I'm genuinely starving."

I dried my hands on a dish towel. "I'm not throwing a fit. And I'm not mad."

She rolled her eyes, clearly not believing me. "Chase was entirely alone in this city during the holidays. Regardless of what we used to be, I couldn't just leave him like that. It was the decent thing to do."

My voice remained flat. "Right. I get it."

She stared at me, trying to read my face, searching for some crack in my armor. Finally, she let out a weary sigh. "You make this so exhausting. Can you please stop acting like a child?"

I looked back at her. "I'm not. You don't have to explain anything to me."

She stared at me in silence for a long moment before unzipping her suitcase. She pulled out a model airplane and handed it to me.

"New Year's gift," she said, her tone carrying a familiar trace of condescension.

The model had no wrapping paper. The cardboard box itself was dented and creased at the cornersa stark contrast to the beautifully wrapped packages Chase had flaunted on his feed.

I didn't feel a spark of joy, but I kept my voice polite. "Thanks."

And then I went back to cleaning the kitchen.

A flash of annoyance crossed Lauren's face. "That's it?" she asked, her voice rising.

"That's it," I replied quietly.

Her face tightened into a hard, rigid line. She held her hand out in front of me. "Where's mine?"

The realization hit me, and I felt a brief pang of sheepishness. "Oh. Sorry. I forgot. Tell you whatI'll Venmo you, and you can buy whatever you like."

I pulled out my phone and sent her the transfer.

Laurens eyes widened, genuinely stunned that I had forgotten. Exchanging gifts on New Years had been our sacred tradition for years. I had never missed it, always spending weeks finding the perfect, thoughtful present for her, even in the years she completely forgot about me.

The silence in the kitchen became suffocating. I grabbed my jacket off the sofa and headed for the door.

Lauren called after me, her voice sharp with sudden panic. "Where are you going?"

"Out for drinks with friends," I said.

I closed the door behind me, shutting out the sound of her calling my name.

Ever since I started dating Lauren, I had completely given up drinking because she once mentioned she hated the smell of alcohol. My friends eventually stopped inviting me, labeling me as the guy who was whipped, the one whose girlfriend kept him on a tight leash. But tonight, I just wanted to feel something else. I wanted to drink until I couldn't think anymore.

Three drinks in, my friends were already slapping my shoulder and complaining. "Man, we thought you completely forgot about the guys once you got a girl. You can't keep disappearing on us like this."

I raised my glass, offering a genuine smile. "I won't. From now on, whenever you guys plan something, just tell me. Ill be there."

Looking back, it was embarrassing how much of my life I had sacrificed. I had made Lauren the absolute center of my universe, revolving my career, my schedule, and my identity around her, while letting my own friendships fade to nothing. It was a pathetic, foolish way to live.

I glanced down at my phone. A notification showed that Lauren had declined the Venmo transfer.

By the time I stumbled back home, it was past one in the morning. I flipped on the living room light, only to find Lauren sitting upright on the sofa. For a second, I thought the alcohol was making me hallucinate.

She didn't stand up to help me balance. Instead, she stared at me with a look of deep, curdled disappointment.

"Jesse, can you have some self-respect?" she said, her voice dripping with disgust. "If you're jealous, just say it. Drinking yourself into a stupor like this only makes me lose what little respect I have left for you."

My head was spinning. I reached out, steadying myself against the back of a dining chair, and slowly sat down.

Lauren caught the scent of alcohol and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Didn't I tell you I hate when you drink?"

She took a deep breath, trying to control her temper. "Chase and I aren't what you think we are. Right now, we are just friends. There is absolutely no reason for you to do this to yourself over him."

I rested my heavy chin in my hand, my vision blurring. "You're... overthinking it. I didn't drink because of him. I drank because... I was happy."

Laurens voice turned sharp, cutting through the quiet apartment. "Enough! Ive given you an out, Jesse. What more do you want from me? Don't push my buttons. I have limits, too. I'm not some saint who can spend forever catering to your insecurities."

My head throbbed, her voice ringing like a siren in my ears. I rubbed my temples, barely able to keep my eyes open. "Don't get worked up. I'm going to bed."

She let out a long, heavy sigh. Her posture softened slightly, and she reached out to steady me as I stood up.

But with the last shred of my sobriety, I stepped back, avoiding her touch.

I wobbled down the hallway into the guest bedroom, shut the door, and turned the lock. I ignored the sound of her hand knocking against the wood, closed my eyes, and fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep. It was the most peaceful night I'd had in years.

When I woke up the next morning, Lauren was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. Her expression was icy, the silence in the room heavy with her anger. I knew she was waiting for an apology. But I didn't give her one. I simply washed up, grabbed my keys, and walked out the door.

I drove straight to my office and handed in my resignation. The only reason I had taken this job in the first place was because the office was just a ten-minute walk from Laurens building. Now, that proximity felt meaningless.

My manager tried repeatedly to convince me to stay, offering a raise, but I remained firm.

Just a few days ago, I had received an email response to an international application Id submitted on a whim. I was hired.

The position was with a firm that had been my absolute dream since college. Back then, I had turned down their initial offer because Lauren didn't want to relocate. It felt poetic that the dream was still waiting for me, proving it wasn't too late to start over.

After finalizing my resignation, I spent the afternoon transitioning my projects and called a close friend to share the news.

He was thrilled for me, though a quiet beat stretched over the line before he asked, "What about Lauren? Is she moving with you?"

I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "No. Just me. Were pretty much done."

Once my paperwork at the office was finished, I spent the rest of the day gathering the documents I would need for my visa. Both of my parents had passed away years ago; the only things anchoring me to this city were a handful of friends and Lauren. I used to believe that home was wherever she was. But now, I had no home. I was just driftwood, ready to float wherever the current took me.

When I finally returned to the apartment, Lauren was getting ready to head out. Her makeup was immaculate, her legs looking impossibly long in a pair of fitted denim shorts. She was carrying a beautifully packaged birthday cake from an upscale bakery.

Of course. It was Chase's birthday.

She was on the phone, her voice light and bubbly. "Stop guessing! If I tell you what the surprise is, it ruins the fun. Just make sure you're ready when I get there."

Someone on the other end said something that made her let out a bright, genuine laugh, showing her dimples. It was a beautiful smile, the kind of easy warmth she almost never shared with me.

She was always ready to give him whatever he wanted, yet she begrudged me even a passing smile.

The moment her eyes met mine, her expression instantly went cold. She didn't say a word, looking away with a flicker of annoyance as she slipped into her heels. The heavy thud of the front door closing echoed through the quiet apartment.

I knew what this meant: the silent treatment had officially begun. We had played this game countless times before, and it was always sparked by Chase. In the past, I would have panicked, spending the next few days desperately trying to win back her favor, sending text after text even if she ignored them all.

Instead, I sat down at the kitchen island, opened my laptop, and started looking up local recipes from the country I was moving to. I figured I should start practicing now. I needed to get used to the taste of my new life.

Later that night, as I lay in bed, I scrolled past a post from Chase on social media: "So grateful that through all the twists and turns of life, youre still the one by my side."

In the comments, Laurens best friend, Chelsea, had written: "This makes me want to cry. I'm just so happy to see Lauren happy."

All of Lauren's friends had liked the post. They had never hidden their disdain for me; in their eyes, I was merely the inconvenient obstacle standing between Chase and Lauren. They believed she would be infinitely happier if I just vanished from the picture.

Then I saw Laurens own comment on the post: "Everything is exactly as it's meant to be."

I stared at their public display of affection, feeling absolutely nothing. Beneath Lauren's comment, another one of her friends had replied: "Shh, don't post too much. We don't want Jesse seeing this. You know how he ishe'll throw a massive fit."

In the past, whenever I had gently asked Lauren to keep some boundaries with Chase out of respect for our relationship, her friends would label me as petty, controlling, and insecure, accusing me of stripping away her basic right to have friends. Lauren had always stayed silent during those attacks, implicitly agreeing with them, before turning around to tell me I needed to grow up and be more secure.

I didn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction. I quietly closed the app, tossed my phone onto the nightstand, and fell asleep.

Hours later, the bedroom door slammed open. Lauren stood in the doorway, her face flushed with anger as she shook me awake.

"Jesse, your girlfriend is out in the middle of the night and you don't even care?" she demanded, her voice shrill. "My friends' boyfriends have been calling them non-stop to make sure they're safe. And you? Not a single text, not a single call. What is wrong with you?"

I stared up at her, utterly bewildered by her sudden outburst.

When I used to call her during her nights out, she would snap at me: "I'm not a child, and I'm not a tool to satisfy your control issues. Give me some space, Jesse, I'm suffocating."

Now, when I finally gave her the freedom she had begged for, she accused me of neglect. I truly had no idea what she wanted from me anymore.

But I didn't want to waste my energy dragging up old arguments. I just pulled the blanket up and said quietly, "You were out celebrating with your friends. I didn't want to ruin the mood by calling constantly. Besides, you were with Chase. Why wouldn't I trust you?"

Stunned silence hung in the room. She looked at me, her eyes wide, clearly shocked to hear me mention Chase's name with such casual indifference.

She quickly recovered, her expression softening into something defensive. "That post... it was just a trip down memory lane. It didn't mean anything. Don't read into it."

I shook my head, about to tell her it was fine, but she cut me off, her defensive walls rising.

"What? Are you saying I shouldn't have gone to his birthday? Jesse, weve known each other for ten years. Yes, we dated briefly a lifetime ago, but now we are just good friends. Its his birthday. It would have been incredibly rude of me not to show up."

I nodded, my voice completely devoid of sarcasm. "I understand. Truly. It's late, Lauren. You should go get some rest."

Lauren froze. She stared down at me, her eyes searching my face, desperately trying to find a trace of hidden anger or resentment. When she found nothing but empty calm, she slowly reached down, attempting to wrap her arms around my waist.

I quietly rolled over, pulling myself out of her reach.

Without looking back, I asked, "Are you sleeping in here, or should I take the guest room?"

A flicker of hurt and disbelief crossed her features. She wasn't used to me rejecting her affection; for years, I had been the one begging for even a fraction of her attention.

With a sharp, angry huff, she grabbed her pillow, stomped out of the room, and slammed the guest room door behind her.

Once she was gone, I drifted off to sleep almost instantly. It was amazing how easy it was to sleep when your mind was finally quiet.

The next morning, I received a phone call from my old college mentor, Professor Ward. Somehow, he had caught wind of my plans to move abroad. He insisted on hosting a farewell dinner for me, and though I tried to politely decline, he wouldn't take no for an answer, proposing a small reunion with a few classmates instead.

With the invitation extended so warmly, I couldn't find a graceful way to refuse.

But I never expected Lauren to be there. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised; she had been one of Professor Wards favorite students, too.

What did surprise me was Chase, who was sitting right next to her. It seemed there was no event too personal or exclusive for her to drag him along.

When Lauren saw me walk into the restaurant, she immediately caught my eye and gestured toward the empty seat next to her. I pretended not to see, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table instead. They looked perfectly matched, sitting side-by-side. I had no desire to interrupt.

Chase met my gaze, giving me a small, smug smile before quickly masking it with a look of polite concern.

"Hey, Jesse," he said, loud enough for the table to hear. "Sorry for crashing your class reunion. I was just feeling so bored at home, and Lauren was sweet enough to insist I come along."

Lauren opened her mouth to speak, looking nervously at me, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.

I raised my glass to Chase, offering a polite, easy smile. "If the Professor doesn't mind, why would I?"

I took a sip of my wine and set the glass down. Throughout the dinner, my phone kept buzzing in my pocket. I finally pulled it out to check.

They were texts from Lauren: "I only brought him because he was lonely. Please don't be mad."

"If it really bothers you, I won't bring him next time."

The final message read: "Let's drive home together after this, okay?"

I cleared my throat, typed a quick response, and hit send: "No need. Go ahead and take Chase home. I drove myself."

I put my phone face down on the table and focused on my dinner, ignoring the subsequent vibrations in my pocket.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of warm nostalgia. Everyone was laughing, sharing stories of our university days. Professor Ward, his cheeks flushed from the wine, stood up and raised his glass directly to me.

"Jesse," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Back in college, you were the brightest student in my department. Your dream was always to go abroad, to build a career on the global stage. I was heartbroken when you suddenly decided to stay in the country after graduation."

He paused, smiling warmly at me. "But thank goodness, life has a way of sorting itself out. You're finally going! You're finally chasing the dream you always deserved. I couldn't be prouder of you. Let's raise a glass to Jessewishing you a safe journey, a brilliant career, and a future as bright as you are!"

I smiled, deeply moved, and stood up to clink my glass against his, draining it in one go.

Across the table, Lauren sat frozen, the color completely draining from her face, as if she had just heard something utterly impossible.