The tea had gone cold in Emily's hands. She sat at the kitchen table in Neno's small bungalow, staring at the fading floral pattern on the ceramic mug like it held the answers she couldn't find. The silence stretched between them, thick and familiar. Rain drummed softly against the windowpane, the kind of steady downpour that reminded Emily of long afternoons folding laundry and waiting for someone—anyone—to come home.
Across the table, Neno watched her with narrowed eyes. Her lips were pursed, arms folded across her chest like she was holding back a lecture that had been building for days. Her red silk robe, too bold for someone her age, clashed with the dull wallpaper behind her—but Neno never cared for subtlety. She had always lived out loud.
"You can't stay here forever, Em," Neno said finally, her voice firm. "This town's a graveyard. Full of people who stopped trying a long time ago."
Emily didn't look up. She traced the rim of her mug with her fingertip. "I don't have anywhere else to go."Neno scoffed. "You have me. And a one-way ticket to freedom, if you'd stop sulking and just say yes."
Emily glanced at her, frowning. "Say yes to what?"
"To coming with me." Neno leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "I'm leaving next week. Lara's finally convinced me to move in with her in the city. It's time. I'm done babysitting my old house and watering dead dreams. I want noise. Lights. Life. And you, my darling friend, are coming with me."
Emily blinked. "To the city?"
"Yes. You're not staying here and letting mold grow on your spirit. You've already lost your home, your dignity, your so-called family—"
"Neno—"
"Don't defend them, Em," she snapped. "Tom tossed you like trash, and those boys of yours? They're too busy being young and selfish to care about the woman who made them. They don't deserve you."
Emily closed her eyes. She hated how true that sounded. "I can't go to the city. I don't even have money for a bus ticket."
Neno stood and crossed to her tiny kitchen drawer. With a clatter of coins and papers, she pulled out an envelope and tossed it on the table.
"You don't need money. I'm paying for everything. Flight, food, shopping spree. I'll even throw in a makeover if you stop looking like a wet tissue and start remembering who the hell you are."
Emily looked at the envelope, then at her friend. "I've never even been on a plane."
"Then it's about time, isn't it?" Neno grinned. "We're flying first thing Monday morning."
Emily hesitated. "But what about Lara? What if she doesn't want—"
"My daughter loves you. She practically begged me to bring you along. You'll have your own room, your own bed, and maybe—just maybe—your own peace."Emily laughed, a small, cracked sound. It wasn't joyful, not quite. But it was the closest thing to hope she had felt in weeks.
"Okay," she said finally, tears in her eyes. "Okay, I'll go."
---
The airport felt like another world.
High ceilings, polished floors, voices in ten different accents echoing off the walls—it overwhelmed Emily almost instantly. She clutched her old handbag with both hands, trying not to gawk as Neno marched ahead with her suitcase like she was born to travel.
"Keep up, Em!" Neno called over her shoulder. "It's just an airport, not a battlefield."
Emily quickened her pace, heels clicking awkwardly on the tile. "I feel like everyone knows I don't belong here," she whispered when she finally caught up.Neno laughed. "They're all too busy looking at their phones. Relax. Breathe. You're not being deported—you're being reborn."
At the check-in counter, the young flight attendant took one look at Emily's passport and smiled.
"Miss Emily Wilson?" she asked, blinking in surprise.
Emily nodded cautiously. "Is there a problem?"
"No, not at all," the woman said, eyes wide. "It's just… you don't look fifty. I would've guessed thirty-five. Maybe."
Emily flushed. "Oh. Thank you."
Behind her, Neno grinned like a proud manager. "Told you. You're a knockout, Em. Always were."
The compliment warmed her, even as she tried to brush it off. It had been so long since anyone—not even her husband—looked at her and saw anything worth admiring.
They passed security, bought overpriced water, and soon found themselves boarding. As the plane taxied down the runway, Emily gripped the armrest with white knuckles.
"I don't like this," she muttered. "It feels wrong."
"It's just nerves," Neno said, patting her hand. "You've spent the last thirty years grounded. It's time you flew."
The moment the plane left the ground, Emily held her breath.
Outside the window, clouds stretched across the sky like waves of silk. Below them, the earth shrank, distant and small. For the first time in forever, Emily felt like she was floating. Weightless. Untethered.
Maybe this was what freedom felt like.