Then he called Julianne.
The number went straight to voicemail.
He called again.
Nothing.
By the third attempt, something colder than anger slid through him.
She had left. Truly left.
Not to her sister’s guest room. Not to some cheap hotel where she would eventually realize she needed him. She had taken the children onto an international flight and disappeared into a version of her life he had never bothered to know.
At thirty-eight thousand feet, Julianne watched clouds stretch like white fields beneath the airplane wing.
Noah slept curled against the window, his dark lashes resting on cheeks still round with childhood. Sophie leaned against Julianne’s arm, one hand tucked beneath her chin, the other clutching the little canvas backpack she refused to let anyone else carry.
Julianne had expected grief to arrive somewhere over the Atlantic.
Instead, she felt the exhaustion of someone who had carried a heavy box for miles and finally set it down.
A flight attendant passed quietly and smiled. “Can I get you anything, Miss?”
“Water, please.”
The woman returned with a bottle and a small packet of cookies for the children. Julianne thanked her, then looked at her sleeping daughter.
Sophie was eight, thoughtful and observant in a way that sometimes worried Julianne. Noah was six and still believed any problem could be improved by snacks, blankets, or dinosaurs. For years, Julianne had tried to make their home gentle enough to compensate for Marcus’s impatience. She had softened his sharp words, excused his forgotten birthdays, and translated his indifference into busyness.
She was done translating.
Sophie stirred. “Mom?”
“I’m here.”
“Are we really going to Grandma Elise’s house?”
Julianne brushed hair from her daughter’s forehead. “Yes.”
“But Grandma Elise isn’t our grandma.”
Julianne smiled faintly. “She loved me like a daughter. That counts.”
Sophie considered this. “Will Dad come there?”
“No.”
The answer came quicker than Julianne expected. Stronger too.
Sophie relaxed against her arm. “Good.”
The word landed softly, but it opened a door in Julianne’s heart she had been afraid to look behind. She had told herself the children needed a father in the home. She had told herself Marcus’s family name, money, and connections would give them stability.
But a child’s relief could tell the truth more cleanly than any courtroom.
Julianne kissed Sophie’s hair. “You don’t have to worry about grown-up things anymore.”
Sophie closed her eyes. “Did I before?”
Julianne looked out at the clouds.
“Yes,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry.”