Vanessa would eventually figure out a solution—she always did. Whether through our parents stepping in or her fiancé coming to the rescue, the wedding would happen. But it would no longer be my problem.
I passed by the historic Charleston storefronts, the sun glinting off the ocean far down the street, and pulled my phone out again. Scrolling through my contacts, I found my commanding officer’s number. I needed to return to the people who valued me not for the money I could provide, but for the strength and dedication I brought to my work.
With a deep breath, I dialed the number, the phone ringing as I continued down the street. The call connected, and I heard the familiar voice on the other end. “Hey, it’s me,” I said, my voice steady.
“I’m ready to come back early if there’s an opening.”
As we discussed logistics, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, it was mine. I hung up and took one last look at Everly & Co., the scene inside still unfolding.
Then I turned and walked toward a future that was finally mine to shape—no longer shadowed by someone else’s dreams.
