Unfiltered Chapter of 27: Chapter 1 — The Departure

February 14, 2020. 2:00 AM.

The alarm on my phone cut through the silence for the third time. Outside, the early spring air carried a crisp freshness and a cold breeze that drifted through my window — the kind of weather that makes the mind want to wake up and conquer the world, while the body begs for just five more minutes of warmth.

I had barely slept two or three hours, exhausted from the final, frantic rush of packing. My sister’s voice, sharp and urgent, accompanied a loud knock on my bedroom door.

“Wake up, Lilly! It’s already 2:15 AM. We need to leave in twenty minutes if we’re going to reach the airport three hours early!”

Somehow, I pushed myself out of bed and into the bathroom. By the time I reached the kitchen, the house was a whirlwind of activity. My dad had already loaded my luggage into the trunk of the cab. In the living room, everyone was talking at once — discussing security checks, the long flight to London, and where I would stay in the UK before my MBA program officially began.

In the middle of the chaos, I saw my mom. She was in the kitchen, quietly making a paneer sandwich — my favorite. I’ve always been the type of girl who gets motion sickness if I travel on an empty stomach. As she handed it to me, prepared in her own special way, every bite felt like a physical manifestation of her love. It was a silent message, telling me how much I would be missed over the coming months — or years. We didn’t know when I would be back.

I checked my phone and texted Prashanth: “HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, MY DEAR.”

Things between us hadn’t been smooth lately. Was it the weight of my move abroad? Was it the looming shadow of a long-distance relationship we never thought we’d have to navigate? The thought of being so far from him made my heart ache, but on the other side of that pain was my childhood dream: pursuing my MBA in the UK. I could only hope that, one day, he would understand.

As we started for the airport, a storm of emotions surged inside me. How do you pack twenty-four years of memories into just two bags? I was traveling to a new country without friends or family, starting from scratch with the sole goal of setting my standards high and making my parents proud. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a reply from Prashanth that didn’t come.

We reached the airport ahead of schedule. My uncle grabbed a trolley, and Dad stacked my three heavy travel bags onto it. I did a final, anxious check of my backpack: Passport? Check. Online boarding pass? Check. Laptop and essential documents? Check.

Then came the moment I dreaded: saying goodbye.

Standing there with my parents, sisters, grandma, and cousins, I felt a heaviness in my chest I had never known. This was my first time boarding a flight, my first time traveling without my parents, and my first time stepping so far out of my comfort zone. Tears began to roll down my mom’s cheeks. I hugged her tight.

“Bye, Mom. Please take care of your health,” I whispered. “You take care of yourself,” she replied, her voice trembling. “Call every day. Don’t worry about us; we will be fine as long as you are happy.” I hugged my dad next. “Take care of Mom, Dad.” “Take care of them both,” I told my sister.

My uncle, who works for British Airways, was able to accompany me through the initial security check. I checked in my luggage, collected my boarding pass, and looked back one last time. Through the massive glass windows of the terminal, I saw my parents waving. I couldn’t hear their voices, but I could see the love in their frantic waves. A sob escaped me. I gave them one last big, tearful smile and turned toward the gate.

I settled down at Gate 20, my eyes glued to my phone. Please, let things be okay between us before I leave, I prayed.

5:45 AM. Outside, the world was a blur of fog and mist. I boarded the plane, stowed my laptop bag in the overhead cabin, and settled into my seat — a middle-row corner, far from the window. I called my father to let him know I was safe on board and promised to call the moment I landed at Heathrow.

Just as I hung up, my phone buzzed. A notification flashed on the screen. It was a message from Prashanth:

“DO YOU LOVE ME OR NOT?”

I stared at the words, confused. Was it a question? Or was it a final statement before ending everything? I called him immediately. My heart was pounding. He didn’t pick up. I waited, breathless, until five minutes later, my phone rang.

“I’m still in love with you,” I blurted out the second I answered. I didn’t want to waste a single second on ‘hello’ or ‘hi.’ “I don’t want us to end.”

There was a long silence. Then, a slow, calm voice came through the receiver: “HAPPY JOURNEY, LILLY.”

The call ended.

I sat there, frozen. Had he even heard me? I dialed his number again, desperate to hear his voice, but the flight attendant was already standing over me, instructing me to switch my phone to flight mode.

As the engines roared and the plane began its journey toward London Heathrow, my mind remained trapped in that final conversation. The music in my ears was just a backdrop to my thoughts. One chapter of my life was closing in confusion, even as the next chapter was beginning to unfold at 30,000 feet.