I back up another step, the carpet giving way to the linoleum of the foyer under my feet. He makes it sound like we’re business partners. Like I’m an investment. Like love was nothing more than a footnote.
“Ben,” I say, voice pleading, only trying to buy more time, as I shift my weight, inching toward the door.
His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches.
I’ve rarely seen him angry—he’s too intelligent to be ruled by emotion. But something’s shifted. Something’s wrong. Because this doesn’t feel like heartbreak. It feels like control slipping away.
“Dolly,” he says, voice softening as he uses the nickname I’ve always hated, “we’re so close. So close to realizing our dreams. Let’s go back together. I can help you find the plant.”
“The plant?” I echo. That’s what this is about?
He hadn’t wanted to go with me. Laughed at my theories. Scoffed at “roughing it” in the mountains. And now he believes? Now he wants to help?
No, something’s off. As I stand there trying to piece it together, he lunges and grabs my wrist in a bruising grip.
But I’ve been hiking in high altitudes for months. I’m stronger than I was. Quicker. And, I’m mad. Just who the hell does he think he is?
My free hand finds the handle and, with a jerk, I throw the door open right into his face. A satisfying thunk is followed by a shrill shriek.
“My nose! You broke my fucking nose!” he squeals, clutching his face, blood streaming through his fingers.
I don’t stick around to enjoy the win, but run to my car, fling myself inside, and slam the locks down. Backing out of the driveway, I grind the gears and clip the curb as I take off. Onehand on the wheel, the other orders a ride to pick me up at the storage lot where I’ll leave my car.
Only when Ben doesn’t appear in the rearview mirror do I ease up on the gas, thankful to be putting a continent between us. In a million years, I never would’ve imagined this ending to our story. How could I not have seen this coming? I never dreamed Ben would cheat on me, much less physically attack me. Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away and focus on the road ahead.
When I pull into the lot, I grab my purse and wait, heart hammering. Every set of headlights tightens my chest until one pulls up with the familiar glow of an Uber sign. I exhale and grab my things.
I can’t help but scan the surrounding area one last time as the driver loads my luggage in the trunk. When he slams the lid, I jump. He shoots me a worried glance, but I give him a weak smile and climb in. And just like that, I’m on my way to the airport, back to the mountains, and far, far away from this dumpster fire.
Chapter
Four
Despite being exhausted, I can’t sleep on the first leg of my journey. Every sound jerks me upright, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. The caffeine from the two lattes I definitely shouldn’t have had back at the airport leave me feeling shaky and slightly nauseous.
I flip through books on my phone, but I can’t focus. Even an audiobook can’t hold my attention as myears keep listening for danger. Despite the miles that rack up behind me, I can’t shake the feeling I haven’t seen the last of Ben.
We were together long enough that I know how tenacious he is. I go back through the years in my mind, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. Did he ever love me? Or was I always just a pawn?
I curse myself for being so naive, so trusting. He was my whole world. Everything had been for him. Now that I’m out from under his thumb, a new picture comes into focus. One where I finally see who Ben really is. The changes were so slow, so subtle, I hadn’t even realized what was happening. I was the proverbial frog in boiling water.
Never again will I be subservient, or put someone else’s needs ahead of my own. He taught me that I’m alone in this world, and if anyone’s going to take care of me, it has to be me. Nothing like flying to the other side of the world to make that a priority.
By the time I get off the second plane, find my luggage, and meet the jeep I hired online during a layover, there’s a new confidence in my step. I can only hope the ten-hour drive back to the mountain village goes quickly.
The first few hours are filled with bouncing roads and switchbacks. I try to upload my notes and maps to my computer, but the terrain is too rough. Instead, I pull out the originals, flipping through the weathered pages in my lap.
When we stop for lunch and a bathroom break at a roadside food stand, I unfold from the jeep with a groan, rubbing my sore back. A steaming cup of chai warms my hands, and for a moment, I’m transported back in time—holding a tiny clay mug as moonlight bathed the trees and those mysterious silver eyes flashed at me in the darkness.
I’m torn between hoping I’ll see them again and praying my return will be distraction-free. With winter closing in and my resources stretched, I don’t know how long I have this time.
At least I’d been smart enough not to give Ben access to the small inheritance my mother left me. Thinking of her brings a tightness to my throat. I’ve missed her for years, but I’ve never felt as alone as I do now.
The approaching winter isn’t the only ticking clock I’m racing against. The need for this plant is more than academic. I can’t let myself imagine what will happen if I fail again—or worse, if I’m wrong about its properties.
We load back into the jeep, and I force my thoughts elsewhere. I manifest hiking through unforgiving terrain, scanning for silvery green leaves and iridescent petals. A flash of color catches the sun. I run to it, fall to my knees, and cup the blossom in my hands. Its luminescent blue-violet matches my own unusual eye color, another gift from my mother.
Just as I begin to harvest it, my head jerks up to find we’ve arrived. I must have drifted off, lulled by exhaustion. I can’t believe it, but in just a few days, I’m back at the very same guest house in the mountain town of Migdhari.
