“Will it be like the last trip?” she asked. “Where we were always hungry and tired? Will you and Emily be crying again?”
A lump formed in my throat.
I forced a smile. “It will be nothing like that.”
It was a lie.
I had no idea what was waiting for us.
But she seemed to accept it.
With a slight shrug, she scooped up a bit of mashed potatoes with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. “Yum!” she chirped. “Mashed potatoes are good!”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Emily and I spent the rest of the day in quiet preparation, moving through the motions of packing as though we weren’t about to throw ourselves into the unknown.
But we both knew.
What lay ahead would require more than essential supplies or standard equipment.
We had to prepare ourselves.
Psychologically. Emotionally.
We had to steel our minds for whatever awaited us on the other side of time.
So, we spoke a little as we packed.
Each of us was lost in thought.
Each of us was uncertain what the future—or the past—held in store.
As darkness fell, Emily and I stood side by side in the middle of my bedroom.
I felt Emily’s gaze before I even turned to meet it.
We stood there for what felt like an eternity—our eyes locked, neither of us saying a word.
Then, finally, Emily nodded.
“We’re ready,” she said, her voice calm, but I could hear the whisper of uncertainty beneath it.
I studied her face—her normally bright eyes now dimmed with apprehension.
Despite the fear we both shared, her expression had a quiet resilience and a spark of determination that mirrored my own.
I gave her a small, understanding smile.
“We’re ready,” I echoed.
But as the words left my lips, something inside me twisted—because the truth was, I wasn’t sure if we were ready at all.
A sudden unease prickled at my spine.
I turned toward the door, my thoughts shifting to Malik.
Where was he?
