|NEXT MORNING|
•BRIANNA•
I woke up at 4 a.m. the next morning, an early hour that felt wrong but somehow necessary. The night had been long and restless, plagued by a swirling storm of anxiety. The excitement of the trip was building, but so were the nerves. I could barely sleep, my mind racing through a thousand possibilities—about the flight, about being away from home, about how everything would unfold.
Reluctantly, I got up from bed, rubbed my tired eyes, and took a shower, hoping the warm water would calm my frayed nerves. Afterward, I quickly dressed in something comfortable for the flight, making sure to pack my essentials. I double-checked my traveling bag to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything important. The last thing I needed was to leave behind something I’d need for the journey.
I prepared a light breakfast—a simple bowl of cereal and some fruit—just enough to fill my stomach, as I wasn’t sure whether we’d be served on the plane. Time was ticking, and by 5 a.m., I was still waiting for Adrian to come pick me up. My anxiety only seemed to grow the longer I sat still, the minutes stretching endlessly.
Then, thirty minutes later, a knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. I was instantly on my feet. It had to be Adrian; we weren’t expecting anyone else at this early hour. I jogged to the door and unlocked it, opening it to find him standing outside in his usual effortlessly handsome glory. His presence was like a calming force, though I wasn’t sure why, given the whirlwind of emotions inside me.
I greeted him with a warm hug, inviting him inside.
“Hey, good morning,” I said, my voice a little shaky despite my best efforts.