Chapter 15

I am awoken from my slumber by a gentle push to my shoulder; instantly, I rouse back into the land of the living, limbs jerky from sleep. 

"Taihan. We're here. Shanghai." Her voice, laden with quiet patience, lures me in and my hands go to rub the tiredness from my eyes. 

"Shanghai…?" I ask, still a little bleary. It hits me then, that I never realized where we were going on this train ride. I just took Bella's hand when she offered it, closing my eyes and letting fate decide where to take me. I was tired of this land, of this place of heaviness that sunk through my joints, and I wanted to get out, no matter the cost. 

"Yes, silly. Where the airport is." She admonishes me lightly, stepping aside to give me room to get up. 

"Wait here, let me get our stuff." Bella told me that I never had to worry about bringing my stuff, that she would have everything covered for me, and I believed her. 

I watched as she walked to the cabin where all the luggage was held, nervousness taking root as she struggled to grab one of her suitcases from a shelf. Before I could even step forward to help though, a stranger quickly rushed to grab it.

The man who helps Bella is young, well-dressed, and eager to please. He reaches for her suitcase without hesitation, flashing a charming smile as he hands it down to her.

"There you go, miss."

Bella tilts her head, offering him a slow, practiced grin – one that always seems to make men stumble over themselves to be useful. "Why, thank you," she purrs, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You're quite the gentleman."

The young man flushes under her gaze, ducking his head in pleased embarrassment. Even as she turns away, his eyes linger on her, watching as she moves with effortless grace through the train car, completely unaware – or maybe entirely aware – of the effect she has.

That's just who Bella is. She doesn't demand attention, yet people give it to her anyway. They bend, they break, they offer up their time and kindness without question.

She makes it all look so easy.

I trail behind her, gripping the strap of my empty bag. No one spares me a second glance.

As we step off the train, the city greets us with an unfamiliar hum of energy. Shanghai is different from home. Bigger, grander – alive in a way my old village never was. The streets are slick from a recent rain, reflecting the golden streetlights in long, distorted streaks. People move with purpose, taxis honk impatiently, and the scent of something fried and oily lingers in the air.

Bella leads the way, her heels clicking against the pavement. "Not far now," she murmurs, as if sensing the way my feet drag slightly, the way my fingers twitch with the urge to turn back.

The airport looms ahead, all steel and glass, so modern it feels unreal. The doors slide open with a mechanical hush, and a burst of cold air hits me.

I stop just short of stepping inside.

Bella doesn't notice at first. She keeps walking, expecting me to follow, but when she glances back and sees me frozen in place, she stops.

"Taihan?"

My hands tremble at my sides.

I don't know why I feel this way. It's not fear, not exactly. It's the weight of something irreversible pressing against my chest. The knowledge that once I step through those doors, there's no going back. No more familiar dirt roads, no more creaky wooden tables, no more quiet nights sitting across from Qianqian, watching her mend old shirts under candlelight.

That part of my life will be sealed away behind me.

Bella sighs, stepping closer. "You're scared," she observes, but there's no mockery in her tone. Just quiet understanding.

I swallow. "I – I don't know."

She reaches for my wrist, her fingers brushing against my skin. "This is the start of something new, Taihan. A new life. A better one."

I exhale shakily.

She leans in, voice dropping to a near whisper. "You don't belong there anymore. That old life was nothing but a cage. Come with me, and I'll show you what freedom really is."

Her grip on my wrist tightens – not painfully, just firm enough to anchor me.

I look at the airport doors again.

The threshold between past and future.

Then, slowly, I let her pull me inside.

And just like that, I leave the old Taihan behind.

The airport swallows us whole – bright lights, rushing bodies, the smell of something sterile and unfamiliar. I clutch the strap of my bag, my fingers curling into the fabric. The vastness of it all makes my stomach twist.

Bella moves through the terminal with ease, as if she's done this a hundred times before. She doesn't hesitate, doesn't pause to check signs or second-guess where we're going. I struggle to keep up, my legs stiff from nerves.

"Bella," I say, voice lower than I intended.

She glances at me, arching a brow. "What's wrong?"

"I just…" I hesitate, then force myself to ask, "What exactly am I going to be doing once we get there? What kind of job is it?"

She laughs lightly, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze. "Oh, Taihan, you worry too much."

That's not an answer.

I press on. "You said there's an opportunity. But what kind?" I don't know why I'm so jittery all of a sudden, but once I start asking, I can't stop myself. 

Bella hums, as if considering. "A little of everything. You'll learn as you go."

That doesn't make sense. "But will it be guaranteed? Where will I live?"

She waves a hand dismissively. "You don't have to worry about that. I'll help you, my parents have connections."

A pit settles in my stomach. "Where will we be staying?"

"America," she answers smoothly.

"Yes, but where in America?"

"New York."

That much, at least, is solid. But still, something feels off. I don't know why, but the way she dodges my questions so effortlessly, so carelessly, makes my skin prickle.

"What about my papers?" I try again. "How will I–"

"Taihan." Bella stops suddenly, turning to face me fully. She reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. The touch is gentle, but something about it makes my breath hitch. "You trust me, don't you?"

I frown. "Of course I do, but –"

"Then stop worrying," she murmurs. "Everything is taken care of."

Her eyes hold mine, deep and unshakable. She smiles, the same smile that makes men carry her luggage, the same smile that convinces shopkeepers to give her what she wants. The smile that made me fall for her all those months ago.

It should be comforting.

We wait by the check-in, where Bella instructs us to stay put until we get called to board. She says something about how she got us premium tickets, so we can board first and choose the seats that we want. I sit there, trying to stop myself from worrying about America, about this newfound place that I left everything behind for, but I don't want to bother Bella any more than I already did. 

The time flies faster when I'm worrying, because before I know it, Bella is tugging my hand to stand up and board the plane. I guess this is it.

The first thing I notice is how small everything is.

The aisle is narrow, the seats are cramped together, and the air is thick with the mingling scents of stale breath and recycled oxygen. The hum of the plane is constant, a deep, mechanical whirr that settles into my bones. I follow Bella to our row, letting her slip into the window seat while I take the one beside her.

I fumble with the seatbelt, the stiff fabric resisting as I try to buckle it. My fingers tremble slightly, though I tell myself it's just from exhaustion. Bella, meanwhile, clicks hers in effortlessly, already flipping through the pages of a glossy magazine, her legs crossed at the ankle.

The cabin doors seal shut with a hiss.

My chest tightens.

The weight of what I am doing presses down on me, heavier than anything I have carried before.

I shouldn't be here.

This is wrong.

I glance at Bella, searching for something – maybe reassurance, maybe a sign that she notices my discomfort – but she is absorbed in her reading, detached and unconcerned.

She doesn't notice the way I'm gripping the armrest. She doesn't hear the way my breath quickens.

She doesn't know what it feels like to leave everything behind.

The plane begins to move, rolling down the runway in slow, deliberate motions. My fingers dig into the armrest as I brace myself, but Bella doesn't react. She doesn't even look up.

Then – speed.

The plane lurches forward, faster and faster, the momentum pressing me back into my seat. My stomach twists into knots, a sickening pull as the wheels lift off the ground. The moment we are airborne, I feel weightless – and not in the way I had imagined freedom would feel.

I thought leaving would feel like a breath of fresh air. Like shaking off chains.

Instead, it feels like falling.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my pulse to slow, willing the dizziness to pass. My hands are clammy with sweat. The air feels thinner up here, harder to breathe, pressing against my lungs with an invisible weight.

The world outside the window tilts, tilts, tilts, until the land below is nothing more than a blur of green and brown. The village – my village – is gone. It is nothing but a speck, swallowed by distance, by time, by my own choices.

Bella doesn't notice.

She doesn't notice how foreign this feels, how unnatural it is to have the earth ripped away from beneath me. She doesn't notice how I fight against weightlessness, how my body protests, how my heart hammers against my ribs.

She is too used to this. Too used to stepping onto planes, to leaving places behind without a second thought, to moving forward without ever looking back.

Qianqian would have noticed.

She always noticed.

I mean, she would've panicked on this damn metal tube hurtling through the air, but I knew that no matter what, she would've thought of me first. She would've reached for my hand the moment she saw my unease, tracing a familiar pattern on the back of it as we shut our eyes. I remember the first time we rode on Yi Shaan's new motorbike, one that went far faster than anything we had ever seen or experienced – he had been so proud to show us, and all of us had been so eager to try it for a ride.

"Are you sure about this?" She had asked tentatively as she stepped on the seat, face framed by the helmet Yi Shaan handed her.

"Yes. Trust me, I'm good at this." Yi Shaan had reassured us with a smirk, beckoning me forward too. 

The machine rumbled beneath me, loud and unsteady, vibrating so hard I felt it in my ribs. My hands gripped the sides with a desperation I wasn't proud of, my knuckles white, fingers stiff. The moment he revved the engine, my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.

I hesitated. The ground now felt so solid beneath my feet. Reliable. Safe. But Qianqian squeezed my hand, reminding me that she was there.

"Nothing will happen to us," she said, as if that was enough to ward off disaster.

I swallowed hard and swung my leg over, my arms awkward at my sides, unsure where to put them.

"Hold onto me," she had instructed.

I didn't move.

She glanced back, exasperated. "Taihan."

With great reluctance, I slowly wrapped my arms around her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her blouse. My grip was hesitant, barely there.

"That's not going to help you if we fall," she said, laughing softly, grabbing my wrists and tugging them tighter around her stomach. "There. Now, whatever happens, you won't go flying off."

I didn't like that phrasing.

The moment Yi Shaan twisted the throttle, the motorcycle jolted forward, and I nearly lost my breath.

Wind rushed against my face, sharp and cold, rattling my bones. The road beneath us blurred, the buildings, the people, the world streaking past too fast for me to process. Every bump in the dirt path sent a shock through my spine.

"Slow down!" I shouted over the roar of the engine.

I could feel it – Qianqian's tension, the way her shoulders stiffened every time the bike wobbled, the way she gripped the handles so tightly her knuckles went pale. She was just as scared as I was.

But she didn't let go. She didn't panic.

She had to be brave. For me.

"Just breathe," she said suddenly, her voice softer now, barely audible over the wind. "Don't think about the speed. Just…breathe."

My heartbeat pounded in my ears, my stomach twisted in knots.

But then, she did something unexpected.

She reached down – just for a second, just long enough to find my hand where it was gripping her stomach – and gave it a small squeeze. A quick reassurance, a reminder that I was not alone.

And suddenly, the fear didn't feel so unbearable.

I focused on the warmth of her hand, on the way she kept herself steady, on the way she was just as scared but refused to let that stop her.

Qianqian is not here anymore.

And Bella is silent.

The realization gnaws at me, slow and painful.

Bella is taking me to a new life. A better life, supposedly.

I look at her again, but she doesn't even glance my way. She flips another page in her magazine, humming faintly to herself, completely at ease.