A long sigh slipped from her lips as she stared at the name printed on her passport. It still felt unreal. The airport buzzed around her—suitcases rolling, announcements echoing, strangers rushing past—yet she stood still, heart thudding in a quiet little rhythm of nerves and excitement.
Her brother finally appeared through the automatic doors, wrestling with a suitcase like it had personally offended him. When he reached her, he dropped it with a thud that earned him a few annoyed glances.
“Irene,” he said, slightly out of breath, “are you sure about this?”
She laughed softly and reached out to smooth the wrinkles on his sleeve. Her touch was light, but her eyes told him she wasn’t wavering. Maybe if she kept telling him she was sure, she’d eventually convince herself too.
“Don’t look at me like that!” she said, poking his cheek. “I’ll be fine. You know I have good survival skills.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You mean your impressive ability to run from responsibilities and escape awkward social gatherings?”
She gasped dramatically. “Excuse you! Those are talents.” Then, with a little pout, “Besides, this is what it feels like to be set free… even though I don’t have a steady job yet.”
“Ah,” he sighed loudly. “So this is what it feels like to release a younger sibling who still relies on me for monthly financial support.”
“FOUL!” she yelped, clutching her chest in mock betrayal. “I am your monthly income! And I am still writing for you!”
“Exactly my point,” he muttered, holding back a smile.
They stared at each other for a second before simultaneously breaking into matching grins. He reached out and ruffled her hair only to earn a groan from her.
“Hey! I need to look decent for immigration! They judge people, you know!”
He ignored her as he began helping her push the suitcase forward.
London.
Her destination. Her leap into the unknown.
A few weeks ago, she had stumbled upon an ad online—The Createrion, a society she didn’t know she needed. On a whim, she applied. On a bigger whim, they accepted her. And on the biggest whim of all… she was actually going.
Her throat tightened, just for a moment. Leaving home wasn’t easy, even when the opportunity was right there waiting for her. She wondered if she’d miss her brother. She wondered if he’d miss her midnight rants or half-eaten snacks in the fridge.
As if sensing the swirl of emotions, her brother nudged her. “If you cry, I’m leaving you here,” he warned, voice rougher than before.
She blinked rapidly. “Please. I only cry when my paycheck is late.”
“If you ever get lonely… call me, okay?” her brother said quietly.
“I will,” she promised. “If I am lonely, I’ll call. If I am broke, I’ll video call. And if I get kidnapped…” She paused, lifting her phone with a deadpan expression. “I’ll send you my live location so you can come yell at my kidnappers.”
He snorted. “Please go now.”
But he squeezed her shoulder gently. And somehow, that made it even harder not to cry.
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