Chapter 62 – Mariana’s Farewell Preparations

The gentle breeze that blew through the Hendersons' garden felt different that morning—like it carried whispers of goodbye.

Mariana stood barefoot among her mother's flowers, her fingers brushing against a blooming white camellia. The system's soft chime echoed in her mind.

[System Alert: Dimensional Pathway Calibration 97% Complete. Departure Imminent – T-minus 7 days.]

Seven days. One week until she would leave this world—this life she had carefully pieced together as Mariana Henderson.

And she wasn't ready.

Not because she feared the unknown, but because the known had become beautiful.

She glanced toward the house, where Laura was humming in the kitchen, her laughter mingling with the morning news. Stuart sat on the porch, reading the same paper he always did, sipping the tea she made him every day at 6:45 a.m. These simple things—these quiet rituals—they had become her heart.

And George.

She had tried to prepare herself for that goodbye. Failed every time.

They had become a constant in each other's lives, intertwined in both mission and soul. He didn't know about her impending departure. She didn't have the courage yet.

But she had to leave. Her mission across the small worlds awaited, her system pulsing with purpose. Children suffering. Injustice festering. She had been chosen. And she had accepted.

Still, it hurt.

That night, she sat at her desk and wrote letters—one for each person she loved. Carefully sealed, tucked into drawers and books they'd find after she was gone.

Then, she slipped out into the Silvercity night, walking until her legs ached, until the stars above felt like home again.

[System: Do you wish to send one final message before departure?]

She hesitated. Then whispered, "Yes."

The message would only arrive on the day she left.

To George:

I've gone to where I'm needed most. Don't look for me. Just know I loved you in every way a soul can love. And I always will. — M.

And just before dawn, she smiled at the horizon, heart full of ache and purpose. Her journey was beginning—but a part of her would always stay behind, wrapped in the scent of camellias and the warmth of a boy who never stopped believing.