(miniflash story)

It was still there — buried beneath weeks of silence, beneath weather updates and grocery lists, beneath photos she didn’t open. Just one line: “If you ever want to leave, I’ll wait.”

He hadn’t written again. Maybe he knew she wouldn’t answer. Maybe he hoped she would. For a long time, she kept the phone locked. Not out of fear — out of habit. Life had become a script, and she was tired of playing her part. But that night, something shifted.

The lamp flickered. The air felt lighter. Or maybe she just wanted to believe in change. She opened the message. Read it again. And again. Then she stood up, packed a single bag, and didn’t even leave a note.

As the taxi pulled away from the curb, her phone buzzed once. She didn’t look. Not yet. She smiled at the window. And for the first time in years — the world looked wide open.