I found my seat by the window.

This time, no one held my documents hostage.

No one demanded an apology I did not owe.

No one made me feel guilty for choosing my own dignity over their comfort.

And as the plane lifted off the runway and climbed out over the Manhattan skyline, I looked down at the clouds and understood that Logan had not only abandoned me at a gate in Madrid.

Without ever meaning to, he had handed me the key to my own freedom — and for the first time in a very long time, I was the one deciding where I would go next.