The sun had barely risen when Rihanna stirred in her bed, eyes wide open, the ceiling above her swimming in shadows. Her suitcase stood zipped by the door, her passport tucked into her sling bag. She hadn't slept. Not properly. Not since the offer letter arrived, promising her a new life in Italy.
A prestigious role. A fresh start.
But her chest hurt. A strange ache that didn't feel like fear. Or maybe it was.
Downstairs, her mother was already awake, making tea—she always made tea on big days. Rihanna could smell the cardamom, and something in her chest tugged hard.
She came down barefoot, in her old oversized sweatshirt and track pants, just the way she always did during holidays. Her mother looked up, and for a brief second, the house felt like it always had—safe.
"You didn't sleep," her mother said softly, pouring two cups.
Rihanna shook her head. "Didn't want to."
Her mother smiled, the kind of smile people give when they're trying not to cry.
They sat together in silence at the table, sipping tea. The morning sunlight danced on the window glass, golden and warm. Her father's muffled snores echoed from the adjacent room. Her younger sister was still curled up in bed upstairs, unaware that this would be their last morning together for a long, long time.
"I packed some snacks in your handbag," her mother said, breaking the silence. "In case airplane food is bad."
"I'll be fine, Ma," Rihanna murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "It's just... a job. Not the moon."
Her mother nodded. But there was pain in her eyes. The kind she didn't speak of.
The cab arrived at 7:45 AM.
Rihanna's father finally came out of the room, his hair still messy from sleep, his t-shirt wrinkled. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders in that gruff, quiet way of his. "You'll call when you land?"
"I will."
"Every day?"
"Every day."
Her sister came down in her slippers, eyes puffy, a blanket still clutched around her. She looked too young suddenly. Too small.
Rihanna hugged her, pressing a long kiss to her forehead. "Don't steal my earrings, okay?"
"I'm taking your room," her sister mumbled into her neck.
They all walked her out to the cab.
The air was cool. The road was still empty. Only the sound of birds and that hum of the engine waiting.
She placed her suitcase in the trunk, adjusted her scarf, and turned back one last time.
Her mother's eyes brimmed with tears. Her father had one hand clenched at his side. Her sister looked like she wanted to scream don't go but couldn't find the words.
Rihanna smiled.
A little too wide. A little too bright.
She waved, a lump swelling in her throat.
"Bye," she whispered, as the driver pulled away.
She didn't look back.
But from the rearview mirror, she saw her mother chase the cab a few steps, wiping tears with the back of her hand, and her sister holding onto her father's shirt like she'd fall without it.
Airport Terminal – 9:20 AM
The airport felt colder than she expected.
Bright, white lights. Polished tiles. Announcements echoing overhead.
Rihanna checked in, her steps shaky but firm. She had done everything—visa, paperwork, hotel bookings for the initial days. The company had made the process so smooth. Almost too smooth.
She sat by the glass wall, waiting to board. Her eyes scanned the runway. Planes landing, taking off. One after another. Lives changing in air.
She finally allowed herself to breathe.
And then she took out her phone and opened her gallery—one last scroll.
A picture of her and her mom baking bread. Her dad holding the dog. Her sister throwing water balloons last Holi.
She watched each photo, fingers trembling.
Then locked the screen.
Her heart ached. But it also fluttered.
Italy.
Her dream job. A new life.
A chance at something... big.
She had no idea that goodbye was forever.
No clue that the life she was flying into would be the one that would tear her soul apart.
But for now, she smiled.
Hopeful.
Naive.
And entirely unaware of the storm waiting to welcome her.