Final Approach to Freedom

Chapter 18

The empty villa felt cavernous as Alexander Hartley stood frozen in the foyer.

The crystal chandelier blazed too brightly, its light failing to warm the vast space. He shrugged off his coat, but the familiar flight attendant uniform no longer hung on the rack.

"I'm home," he murmured out of habit.

Silence answered.

The scented candles Evelyn Montgomery had arranged three years ago had long since burned out, taking the last traces of her presence with them. Alexander moved through the living room, his gaze snagging on the framed photo of him and Sophia Whitaker on the coffee table—so glaring he nearly smashed it.

Scrolling through his phone gallery, he realized not a single picture of Evelyn remained. Then it hit him—the "last words" text she'd sent during his near-crash, deleted without a second thought.

"What a bastard," he muttered, laughing bitterly at himself.

At thirty thousand feet, Evelyn's focus never wavered from the instrument panel.

"Prepare for descent," Julian Carter's voice crackled through her headset.

Her hands moved with precision, guiding the plane to a flawless landing. Passengers applauded as the cockpit door opened.

"Last flight together," Julian said, removing his headset. "You're training a new copilot starting next week."

Unbuckling her harness, Evelyn flashed a confident smile. "Don't worry. I’ll whip any rookie into shape."

Stepping onto the jet bridge, her eyes instinctively darted toward the terminal windows. Once, Alexander would’ve been waiting there. Now, only hollow reflections stared back.

Alexander's lectures always drew packed crowds. Today, a ponytailed girl raised her hand: "Professor Hartley, are you seeing anyone?"

The classroom erupted in whistles.

He twisted his wedding ring, its metal gleaming cold under the lights. "My wife’s a pilot."

His TA fumbled the tablet in shock. Students gaped—their notoriously private professor had never mentioned his personal life.

"Will... your wife visit campus?" the girl pressed.

Alexander’s expression iced over. He remembered the last time Evelyn came—how he’d dismissed her, citing "professional boundaries."

"She..." His throat worked. "She’s on international routes. Too busy."

The office photo frame had changed. Sophia’s picture was replaced with Evelyn’s official Southsun Airways portrait, downloaded from the company intranet. Beside it sat a wedding photo—negatives begged from a studio after he’d burned the originals.

In the portrait, Evelyn’s smile outshone the stars in her eyes. Alexander traced the frame, suddenly noticing the faint dimple on her right cheek.

Three years married, and he’d never seen it before.

Night deepened. Half the master bed lay untouched. Alexander stretched across Evelyn’s side, her pillow still faintly scented with shampoo.

A plane streaked past the window, its wing lights blinking through clouds. He grabbed his phone and booked the earliest flight out.

Destination: Evelyn’s final stop tomorrow.