Sixty hearts blue 6

Stephen steered through the evening traffic, his fingers drumming against the wheel. The weight of his workload pressed on him—being chief accountant was triple the responsibility he'd expected—but none of it mattered now. He had promised Roselle he'd see her before she left, and nothing would stop him.

Forty minutes before her flight, he pulled onto the airport's wide road, his thoughts tangled with memories of her. The way she smiled, the feel of her hands in his. The thought of losing that—even temporarily—gnawed at him. With a sigh, he reached for his phone just as it lit up with her name.

"Where are you, Stephen?" Her voice trembled, laced with unshed tears.

His grip tightened. "Roselle? What's wrong?"

"I don't want to go," she confessed, voice breaking. "If you tell me to stay, I will. Just say it, Stephen."

His heart clenched. He wanted nothing more than to tell her to stay, to keep her by his side forever. But he couldn't. He wouldn't be the reason she abandoned her future.

"Rose, we'll talk every day. Every minute, if you want. Please don't cry," he murmured, resting his head against the seat.

"But I don't want to be without you," she whispered.

"You won't be." He forced steadiness into his voice. "Your mom is so proud of you, Rose. You wouldn't want to disappoint her."

A silence stretched between them before she breathed, "I want to see you before I leave."

"I'm already here. Where are you?"

"In my room. We're leaving soon," she sniffled. Then, quieter, "Stephen?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

His eyes burned. "I love you too."

The call ended, but the ache remained. He shut his eyes, steeling himself for their goodbye.

When she finally appeared, dragging her luggage with her mother at her side, Stephen stepped out of the car. The moment their eyes met, Roselle dropped everything and ran to him. He caught her, arms tightening as she buried her face in his neck, breathing him in like she could bottle the scent of him.

Their lips met softly, a silent plea neither could voice.

"I'll call you every day," she promised.

"And I'll always answer." His thumb brushed against her cheek, memorizing every inch of her face.

Her arms tightened around his waist, but the final call for boarding loomed. She took a shaky step back. Then another. He fought the urge to pull her back, to refuse to let her go.

Just as she reached her mother, Roselle suddenly turned, sprinting back. Stephen braced himself, catching her in his arms one last time.

"I'll miss you," she murmured.

"I'll miss you too," he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Tears streaked down her cheeks as she stepped away, finally turning toward the gate. Stephen stood frozen, watching until she disappeared.

A hand touched his shoulder. Roselle's mother.

"Thank you," she said softly. "This is all possible because of you."

He forced a small smile. "You don't have to thank me, ma'am."

She studied him for a moment. "You love her."

He swallowed hard. "She's the only one I ever have."

Her expression softened before she nodded and left.

Stephen stood there long after the plane took off, the taste of her kiss still on his lips, the ache of her absence settling deep in his chest.

From a distance, Lisa watched. She had arrived shortly after Stephen, lingering in the shadows. The way he held Roselle, the way he looked at her—it stung.

But as Roselle disappeared into the airport, Lisa's lips curled.

Roselle was gone. And Stephen was alone.

For now.