Amelia was done. She and Kristoff had their fights, but their fight last night had snapped something into place for her. She had to get out. She cringed at the memory of feeling her back colliding with the wall, relieved that it wasn't a doorframe or any furniture. She remembered the vase on the credenza just a few feet from where she impacted teetering and then falling from the shelf, crashing to the floor in an explosion of glass and water. She heard of people getting the wind knocked out of them from seeing it happen in movies or having it mentioned to her in stories. She thought she knew how it would feel, but the real thing left her feeling like the room was spinning. Everything was moving in slow motion as she leaned back against the wall and let herself slide down to the floor. She didn't trust her legs to hold her any longer. All she could think about was the vase. It had been holding the dried bouquet he had given her 4 years prior when everything seemed to be perfect. When she thought she was finally happy. The dried flowers lay in pieces, flaking apart in some parts and soggy with the spilled water in others. There was no saving them now, though that didn't bother her very much. She was never even a fan of carnations.

It took what felt like forever to turn and look at Kristoff (though now she knows it was likely only a few seconds), finding that even he seemed a little taken aback by his actions. For the first time in months, he seemed to realize that he'd hurt her. She thought that all of the times that he slapped her, grabbed her, or pushed her around had been nothing but a normal aspect of arguments in relationships in a rough patch. There was something about the way that he hadn't cared that she was terrified and couldn't breathe, no matter how temporary. He didn't care that her arms were red, almost like she'd been sunburned; only these marks would most certainly bruise by morning. Her thoughts all fell into place at that point, the weight of her situation suddenly weighing on her shoulders. She felt the tears stinging in her eyes as she fought to regain her breath in painful gasps. She wasn't surprised to find the fleeting concern she saw in Kristoff's expression fade as he realized she wasn't seriously injured. After a moment, he told her to clean up the mess and get to bed, his voice cold and distant. After all, she had to work in the morning and Joja came above all else.

Amelia shook her head, fighting a headache. She hadn't slept much that night and the morning light shining in only made that worse. Continuously, her mind returned to the night before, though she wasn't as sad as she thought she'd be. A small voice cursed in the back of her mind, telling her she should be devastated for upsetting him again. She found a small victory in feeling quite the opposite. Her arms had bruised, and she was certain she would be a little winded for a while, if not just at the thought of the pain in the center of her chest.

Truthfully, throwing out the bouquet felt as symbolic as receiving it in the first place. Frankly, it was liberating. The actions of throwing them out and receiving them were opposites, but the feeling of doing so was the same: relief. Before. she believed that it was proof that she had a bright future with the man she could see a life with. She smiled to herself, the thought that leaving him behind now induced the same feeling without needing the man for validation. Why had he insisted that they kept the bouquet in the water anyway? It had been 4 years and they were long dead. He had insisted on keeping them. Another reason that it felt right to throw them out.

She sat on the bed, running her fingers carefully over the wax seal on the envelope from her grandfather. A light layer of dust disappeared with her touch. He had handed it to her almost 20 years ago just days before he died. She'd opened the credenza the night before while cleaning up the water that seemed to get everywhere, only to find the small box she kept all of her mementos. It held letters from her mother, stepfather, and her grandparents. It held what few photos of her childhood that she took from her parent's house before she ran off to the city. Her favorite thing in the box was a letter that her grandfather wrote to her grandmother while she was away taking care of her sister, who was in hospice. It was clear that he was trying to make her smile and laugh, the entire letter full of his memories with her and notes on how much he loved her (and what he loved about her). There were some parts of the letter she had decided to skip, but thankfully they were confined to their own page. The sealed envelope that he gifted Amelia, however, lay neatly on top of the rest. She had considered opening it a thousand times before, but it never felt like the right time.

When she opened it today, she suddenly felt heavy, her heart racing. She found herself wishing that she did open it sooner. Tears threatened as she realized that Pop knew that life would reach this point someday. He knew that she would need a change. He had no idea how much she desperately needed an out right now and she was the most grateful that she had ever been.

The night before, she sat on the floor of their bathroom and cried for hours before she finally went to bed. Had she stayed, Kristoff would likely scold her for coming to bed so late. She slept as close to the edge as she could. Like every day, Kristoff kissed her goodbye before leaving for work, sardonically telling her not to be late as if nothing had happened the night before. She moved to the window in time to see him leave the building. The second she watched him get into his assistant's car, she quickly started packing a single suitcase. She took only the essentials: her clothes (scarce because she was only taking the clothes that she liked, not the tighter, more expensive ones Kristoff had bought her to wear to company events), basic toiletries, and all of her legal documents. She had her hand on the front door handle before she thought to leave him a letter. Most importantly, she thought to take the SIM card from her phone and factory reset the device. She would have to stop at a phone store and start her own plan on her way to Pop's farm… her farm.

She went to his office, a cold dread running up her spine. If he knew she had come in here, he'd likely be more furious than last night. If he got that angry over dinner being late… it didn't matter now. He'd never see her again if this works out as planned. As far as she knew, he didn't even know that Stardrop Fields existed. She moved over to his desk and pulled out a pen and a memo pad, writing out the letter, trying to as professionally as possible.

Kristoff,

I wish I had the courage to do this in person. To be frank, you've made that impossible. I'm not happy and I haven't been for a long time. Not in general and not in the relationship. You have proven time and time again now that you do not care for me as you did four years ago. As Joja itself grew more successful, you grew into a different man. You climbed the corporate ladder while I stumbled to assistant manager in Zuzu's smallest, most isolated store. Your success was always more important than mine and it took me far too long to realize this. All you needed was a woman on your arm to attend events, only to leave her alone at the table with the other lifeless shells that were your colleagues' wives. Thank Yoba you never thought to offer me a pendant.

As I called out of work this morning and packed my belongings, I felt free for the first time since I can remember. I am going as far away from Zuzu as I can to start fresh. I am not going anywhere near my parents as they do not deserve the pain and chaos I fear will come if you were to find me. Were there not a war, I would go to Gotoro if it meant you would never find me.

Please consider this letter my formal resignation from both my position with Joja Corp. and our relationship. Apologies for not offering two weeks' notice, but given the circumstances, I'm sure you understand.

I hope that whoever you find next will be happier than I have been, but more importantly, treated better.

Previously yours,

Amelia Rowe

P.S. Should I find out that you are attempting to find me, I will take legal action and I will make sure that it will be very public. I'm sure the media will adore that.

Carefully, she positioned the letter as close to the center of his desk as she could. She paused for just a moment. She took a second to think before hurrying to the garbage can in the kitchen to retrieve a dried sprig of a sad flower before taking it back in, setting it on the top of the letter with her phone's SIM card nestled inside. She smiled to herself, the words on the paper like a dark shadow that she extracted through the words on the paper. She considered spilling the ink from his favorite fountain pen all over his desks and his things, but she wanted to be the professional one. She was already proud of her courage as is; there was no need to bring forth more fear of him finding her in a rage because she decided to be petty.

Taking a deep breath, she looked around once more as she approached the front door, pleased to know that she was more excited to get out than she was sad. As she climbed into the elevator, her mind started racing. How on earth had she not realized how unhappy she was? How did she let herself justify his actions? How had she not noticed that having to hide her arms from other people was abnormal behavior? She tugged at the sleeve of her hoodie, the material long stretched out to be too long for her arms. Though, that wasn't hard to do. She'd always been small compared to her peers, even being curvy. The elevator dinged, snapping her out of it as it slowed to a stop on the 8th floor. She couldn't stop herself from tensing up as the doors crept open. She knew it wouldn't be him, but she couldn't stop her anxiety. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she exhaled, smiling in greeting at the woman. The woman gave a small nod before turning her attention back to her cell phone.

Amelia allowed the woman to leave first before heading toward the large glass doors to the outside, stopping at the curb to flag down a cab. It wasn't long until a sleek black car pulled up, the name and phone number for the company printed in neat, white text on the side. She was suddenly thankful that she grabbed some cash on her way out. All of the cabs here would be more expensive.

"Where are we headed, miss?" the man called back as she climbed into the cab, eying her curiously through the rearview mirror.

"I was hoping to make two stops if that's allowed," the man gave a nod, encouraging her to continue, "Oh, great. I need to go to the Great Dane bus station, but I was hoping to make a stop at any cell carrier on the way... Preferably a Z-Mobile?"

The man offered a smile and another nod before pressing the button on the dashboard to start the fare. She made a mental note to not watch it too closely. No point in adding more stress

They pulled up to a Z-Mobile store just a few blocks from the bus stop. She pulled out enough gold for the fare listed and quite a generous tip before handing the gold to the man with a smile.

"I have a bit of time before my bus leaves and honestly, I have no idea how long the phone thing will take. I can walk once I'm done here. I appreciate your help!"

He smiled in return, holding up his hand in acknowledgment. "Thank you, miss!" he paused as if contemplating whether or not to continue, "I hope you find whatever it is you are looking for."

After a beat, she closed the cab door and watched as he drove off. She couldn't have known how to respond to that if she tried. It was a strange thing for him to say, especially to a stranger. She shook her head, snapping out of it before heading into the store. Today will be a long day and it's only 10:30am.