Chapter 4: A Future of My Own

I boarded the overnight train to Philadelphia, found my seat, and slid my suitcase into the space by my feet.

Just before we pulled out of the station, my phone started vibrating nonstop.

Grant was calling, one attempt after another, as messages poured in.

Claire, the bus is about to leave. Why aren’t you on it?

What are you doing?

Call me back the second you see this.

I looked at the screen and my lips curled into a humorless smile.

He wasn’t worried about me. He just couldn’t stand that I had stepped outside his plan.

The conductor’s voice came over the speaker, telling passengers to turn off their devices.

I took the SIM card out of my phone, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the trash can beside my seat.

The train slowly pulled away from the platform, and the lights of Chicago fell farther and farther behind me.

If this had been the past, I would have taken a photo of the night sky outside the window and sent it to Grant.

Just as I used to excitedly tell him when I found cheap plane tickets, learned a new recipe, or had a funny story from work.

But he always had the same response: “I don’t have time for this trivial stuff. Put your energy into something useful.”

After a while, I stopped sharing.

And yet, around that same time, Tessa had posted an update—visible only to select friends—bragging that Grant “always responded to everything” for her.

In her screenshot, she was complaining about a difficult boss, and Grant had patiently talked her through it for half an hour.

She had casually mentioned wanting to see an exhibition, and he had looked up tickets, directions, and even nearby restaurants for her.

So it wasn’t that he didn’t have time.

He just didn’t want to give his time to me.

A tear fell onto the back of my hand. I didn’t wipe it away.

The train plunged into the darkness, leaving behind the Claire who was always waiting for an answer.

The next morning, the announcement came.

“This train will be arriving shortly at Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station.”

The horizon had begun to lighten.

I wiped my face, put in the prepaid SIM card I had bought, and sent a message to my lawyer.

I’m here. Please proceed as planned.

Once it went through, I picked up my suitcase and walked toward the door.

This time, I didn’t have to wait for someone who would never truly answer me.

My future was mine to plan.