“Greg, hi.” My voice wavers, and I force a small breath before pushing on. “Yes, thank you. I just wanted to let you know… I’d like to take my postponed leave. Effective immediately.”
There’s a pause, the faint rustle of papers on his end.
“Of course. It’s actually the best thing to do. HR has already started the petition process regarding your transfer. You shouldn’t be working while that’s ongoing anyway. Once it’s approved, you’ll need to return home for the embassy stage, but we’ll guide you through everything.”
Return home.The words tighten something in me. I glance at the ocean, at the endless horizon, and shake my head.
“Thank you, Greg,” I murmur. “For everything. I’ll be in touch soon.”
“Della, wait!” His voice sharpens, almost urgent. “Where are you? Mr. Marshall called asking about you.”
My stomach twists. The image of Dorian—pacing, searching, calling—burns behind my eyes. I hesitate a second too long before answering.
“I’m in San Diego,” I say quietly. “With a friend.”
Greg exhales, relief mingled with curiosity. “Alright. But are you… okay? What’s going on between you two?”
I press a hand against my temple, willing the tension away. His concern is genuine, but I can’t unravel this story now.
“I’m fine, Greg. Really. Thank you for being so understanding.” I force a brightness into my tone that feels like splinters. “I have to go.”
I hang up before my voice can betray me. The screen goes black in my hand, reflecting back a faint, tired version of myself.
The next call is harder. Alexandra. My anchor, my Sorelina. She picks up almost instantly.
“Della! Finally! Where are you? What happened?”
Her voice alone breaks me a little. “I’m in San Diego. With Silvia.” I pause, fighting the lump in my throat. “I… I had to get away from Chicago.”
“You mean, away from Dorian?” she presses gently.
“Yeah… I need to clear my head and process everything that has happened. When I’m near him, I can’t think—memories and feelings come rushing in like a category five tornado. But you know what? I finally took your advice.”
I can hear the smile in her voice. “Really? Which piece of my infinite wisdom did you finally listen to?”
“I’m starting therapy. Silvia gave me a number and… I called.”
“Della…” her breath catches, warm with relief. “I’m so proud of you. So happy for you.”
“And, there’s more.” My fingers twist in my lap. “I’m applying for the work visa. Greg offered a position at the headquarters and I will go for it. I want to build a future. Something mine. Not because of Dorian. For me.”
Silence—then a soft laugh that’s half joy, half tears.
“Wow, Sorela. This is huge. You dreamed of this since college.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I did. And now—it’s time.”
“If this is what you need, then do it. But promise me you’ll be careful. Promise you’ll call.”
“I promise.”
Before I can say more, a sudden commotion filters through her line—raised voices, the distinct crash of something breaking, muffled shouting. My heart jumps.
“What’s going on? Are you okay? Sorelina?” I ask while the shouting on the other side is growing louder.
“Yeah—yeah, it’s nothing. Just Javier being clumsy. Don’t worry,” Her tone shifts, tight, as if she’s covering the phone. “Listen, I have to go. I love you.”
“I love you too, Sorelina—”
