Freedom and Truth
Now, as the plane lifted off, the city lights fell away beneath us. My hand instinctively rested on my swollen belly, feeling the faint movements inside. This child—my child—would never be another pawn in their twisted game of greed and control.
My father leaned forward. “We’ll go somewhere safe. Somewhere they’ll never find you.”
I nodded silently, tears threatening to spill. I wasn’t sure if they were from fear, grief, or relief. Maybe all three.
“You’re stronger than you think,” he said gently. “You come from survivors.”
I met his gaze and managed a faint smile. For the first time in months, I felt a spark of hope. I had lost my illusion of love, but in its place came clarity—a fierce, unyielding will to protect the life growing inside me.
As the jet disappeared into the night, I made a silent vow: I would never let them win. Not Adrian. Not his mother. No one.
Because I wasn’t just running anymore. I was fighting back.
