Jenn's POV
The day had finally come. The one I had been trying to delay, ignore, pretend didn't exist. But time has a way of moving faster when your heart's happy—and now, it was cruelly reminding me that goodbyes don't wait.
I stood by the window, my suitcase packed and zipped. Jas was busy helping me with the last-minute things, but I could feel her eyes on me every few minutes—silent, heavy with worry.
"I still can't believe this is really happening," I whispered.
She walked over, wrapped her arms around me from behind. "Neither can I. But hey… if it's meant to be, this won't be the end."
I wanted to believe that. But everything in me felt like I was leaving a part of my soul behind. The past month had felt like a dream—a dream that now had an expiration date.
My phone buzzed. Andres.
"I'm downstairs."
I grabbed my coat and stepped out. He was leaning on the hood of his car, looking up at my window as if waiting to catch a glimpse of me before I vanished. When our eyes met, something inside me cracked. He tried to smile, but I could already see the sadness in his eyes.
The drive to the airport was silent. Heavy. His hand reached out for mine and I held it like it was the last thing tethering me to this place.
"You don't have to say anything," he said finally. "I know this isn't what we wanted. But I'm not letting you go completely. I won't."
I looked away, trying to blink the tears away. "I wish things were different. I wish we weren't from two different worlds. I wish love was enough."
"Love is enough," he said sharply. "It has to be."
We reached the airport. I turned to him, and that's when it happened. The thing I had dreaded most.
"Jenn," he said, voice trembling, "stay."
I froze.
"I talked to a friend in immigration. I can extend your visa. We can work this out. Just give me a little more time."
"Andres…" I looked at him, breaking. "You know I can't. My parents don't even know about us properly. There's so much back home—my life, my people, my traditions. I can't just disappear from that."
He stepped back like I had slapped him. His jaw clenched. "So that's it? You're really leaving?"
I couldn't speak.
"I thought what we had was worth fighting for," he said bitterly.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. "It is. But right now… I just don't know how."
He pulled me into his arms one last time, and it was the kind of hug that said everything we couldn't. His hand slid behind my head, and he whispered, "I'll wait. I don't care how long it takes. Just come back to me."
I kissed him—slow, deep, desperate.
Then I walked away.
Every step I took toward the gate felt like I was walking through fire. And when I finally sat in my seat, staring out of the plane window, I let myself cry. For him. For us. For the love that bloomed in the wrong season but still bloomed so beautifully.
And in that moment, I didn't know what the future held. But I knew one thing:
This wasn't our ending. Just a pause.