I turned over and buried my face in the pillow, part of me hoping it would smother the guilt that clawed at me.
The phone buzzed.
“You may now check in to your flight.”
She was leaving tomorrow already? Her flight to where? I realized I hadn’t even bothered to find out where she lived.
“DEN → YYZ”
Toronto. I blinked at the screen, trying to absorb it all. A whole life waiting for me up there—her life, but still.
What was I doing? How far was I willing to take this?
Fuck.
I let the air hiss through my teeth and then started packing her stuff.
The next morning came too quickly and I was bleary-eyed as I shoved the last of her things into the suitcase. The airport was a blur, and I nearly missed the flight, slipping into the seat with seconds to spare, out of breath and full of anxiety.
A baby cried somewhere behind me as the plane took off. I was too tired to care, resting her head against the window and letting the roar of the engines drown everything out.
By the time I touched down in Toronto, I'd resolved to dive into her life completely. If she could disappear without a trace, so could I. What else was left anyway?
I hailed a cab with shaky hands and gave them her address—an upscale neighborhood. When it pulled up to the house, every part of me screamed to turn back.
“Mommy’s home…” I shuddered.
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