The chirping of birds nudged Elsa out of sleep, their soft melody cutting through the heaviness in her chest. She stirred slowly, unwilling to move, her mind still wrapped in the fog of sleep.
"So bright," she murmured, squinting against the morning light that filtered through the window. Her hand fumbled across the sheets. "Jack, could you-" but her words faded as she grasped only the cool, empty fabric.
She sat up, blinking against the light and feeling the familiar ache settle in her body. The dull throb in her chest mirrored the emotional weight she carried, a memory of last night flooding her thoughts.
The wedding.
The arguments.
The confrontation.
Jack holding her.
Helping her into bed.
Her stomach tightened with anxiety, and the familiar guilt crept in.
What a disaster!
Slowly, her legs swung off the bed, the movement hesitant as if her body knew what her mind refused to admit.
Is this what I came here for? To beg for love? To envy Anna's happiness?
Her nails dug into her palms.
They were right. Everyone was right. I'm a bitch.
Sinking her face into trembling hands, Elsa fought to stop the spiralling thoughts. The weight of Jack's words calmed her, and she realized she had been thinking wrong. As Jack said, she was strong and she had done nothing wrong.
But where was he?
She stumbled to the door, the pulse of panic quickening with every step.
Is he still here?
Did he leave already?
At the bottom of the stairs, the air felt heavy, with familiar scents mingling; the rich, comforting aroma of coffee, fading but still there, mixing with the sharp, unmistakable tang of alcohol. She hesitated in the corner, her heart tightening.
Jack sat on the couch in the living room, his frame slumped as if under some crushing weight. The table before him was a mess, with a few discarded plates, coffee cups, and half-finished bottles that spoke louder than words. His hand wrapped around a tumbler filled with amber whiskey that caught the morning sunlight in glimmers, but the bottle stood untouched next to him, an unspoken story of late nights and too many empty hours.
He lifted his head slowly when he sensed her presence, tired eyes red-rimmed and heavy. His lips tugged into a faint, forced smile, but the warmth was absent. "Morning," he rasped, his voice hoarse and strained. "Feeling better today?"
Her gaze flicked from the glass in his hand to his clenched fist around it. She could hear the hollow note in his words and see the fragile edge that he was barely clinging to.
Stepping closer, she stood still for a moment, hands tightly at her sides. "Jack, what's going on?" Her voice trembled, as though the question itself might unravel everything.
He laughed, but it was a brittle, hollow sound. "Breakfast," he said, lifting his glass in a mocking toast before slamming it down harder than necessary.
The sound echoed in the room as if his frustration spilled out along with the noise. Her chest tightened. "When did whiskey become breakfast?"
Jack rubbed his forehead, as if trying to erase the pressure there, before he picked up the glass again, more gently this time, and dragged it over the edge of the table. He turned away, his shoulders stiff with the weight of something far too heavy. "Don't worry about me," he muttered, his gaze avoiding hers. "Do you feel better today?"
The question was so abrupt that it grated. His movements were quick, too quick for someone who hadn't slept, grabbing things, pushing plates aside without even looking. She leaned forward, her voice small and deliberate, "Jack...are you really okay?"
He stiffened as her hand brushed across his jaw, flinching almost imperceptibly, the rough tremor in his breathing louder than anything he could say. His jaw clenched before the bitter laugh slipped past his teeth again. "You're asking me?" He shrugged, turning his face away, fingers drumming softly on the whiskey tumbler. "You already know why I'm not." He turned back to the counter, toying with the glass, eyes unfocused as if trying to keep the walls between them intact. "Or have you decided pretending it will make it easier to leave?"
Her breath caught in her throat, but it wasn't the words. It was the truth she felt pulling at her heartstrings. She couldn't look away, unable to mask the sharp twist of guilt deep in her chest. It was her turn now. The truth. She couldn't escape it. The silence stretched between them, heavy and inevitable.
She reached for him again, her fingers trembling as they hovered near his cheek, the hesitation clear in the softness of her touch. "Jack," her voice cracked, "I don't want you to-"
"Die?" His hand slammed onto the table in a sudden motion. He looked at her, shaking his head with barely controlled rage. "That's it, right? You think I'll die if we keep going like this? You're trying to protect me from something we can't even control?"
Her throat tightened as if the words were choking her. She struggled to find the right thing to say, but all that came out was a breathy whisper. "I can't...lose you again. Not like before."
His hand, clenched white around the tumbler, was shaking now. "You're trying to save me, Elsa." His voice lowered, fragile and pained. "But without you...I'm already half gone." He wiped his face with a rough palm, eyes closing for a moment as if bracing himself against the storm behind them.
As he started clearing the mess on the table again, he murmured, quieter now, the words more than they appeared. "You're the strongest person I know," he said, voice thick with emotion. "Proud of you, Elsa. For standing up for yourself." He cleared his throat as if the next words could no longer be buried. "We had fun, didn't we?"
Her breath hitched in her chest, and her vision blurred with unshed tears. She bit her lip, desperate to hold it back. "You made it fun," she whispered, her heart trembling with each word.
He nodded, the faintest of smiles crossing his face. "Glad you think so. I-" His voice faltered again, thick with emotion he couldn't suppress. He looked away, blinking hard as the words finally fell from him. "I love you, Elsa."
The raw simplicity of it felt like an ache too deep to acknowledge. She turned away, feeling her heart splinter. "What about the company issues?" she asked quickly, desperate to pull herself back together. "Is it...handled?"
"It's handled," he answered, his tone a little sharper, more composed. He was standing near, but there was a new distance between them. "My identity is still under wraps." He walked across the room slowly, as if every movement needed to be measured.
Relief fluttered, but then Jack's voice, empty and final, crushed it in an instant. "I'm not afraid of the risks anymore." He turned to face her as he continued, his voice steady but without hope. "And you're leaving. So, it doesn't matter. My family already knows how to deal with it. They are well-known."
Her chest squeezed tight as the finality of his words reverberated in her mind. She fought the tears, pushing them away but not entirely. She found herself asking the question anyway, her voice quiet with disbelief. "Why now, Jack? Why not before we met?"
He didn't answer right away. His face closed off, his gaze dark as if torn between something he couldn't explain. "I didn't need to before," he finally said, his voice little more than a whisper. "But now...I need something to distract me." He let out a long breath and leaned against the counter, gripping it as he tried to steady himself.
"Jack?" Her voice cracked through the air, and she took another slow step forward, waiting for him to meet her eyes, but he never did. "When are you leaving?"
After a long, aching pause, Jack wiped his eyes roughly, exhaling. "I'll leave after you do," he said. "I'll make sure you're safe first. When do you want to go?"
"As soon as possible," she murmured, her voice trembling, barely audible over the hum of the morning breeze that seeped through the open window. She glanced up at him briefly, just long enough to catch the way his jaw tightened, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond her. "Today. Can you move my flight to today?"
Jack's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly. For a moment, he didn't move, his arms hanging limp at his sides, fists twitching as though he was holding back something unsaid. He finally shut his eyes and forced a quiet exhale through his nose. "Sure," he said, his voice clipped and strained, as if it physically hurt to push the words out. Without looking at her, he added, "You should start packing."
The silence between them thickened. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she gave him a small nod, turning before her emotions could betray her. "Thanks for…everything," she murmured, her voice breaking mid-sentence.
The weight of the unspoken settled heavily on her shoulders as she ascended the creaking stairs, her hand brushing the wooden banister. Her legs felt like lead, each step deliberate, as though the act of leaving was sinking in.
In her room, sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting faint patterns on the floor. The travel bag on the bed was a stark contrast to the mess of emotions roiling inside her. She stood motionless for a long moment, staring at it, until the suffocating stillness urged her forward.
Her hands worked mechanically, yanking open drawers and tossing items into the bag with little thought. Shirts, pants, and all items were stuffed inside, each fold and crease an afterthought. Everything about her movement lacked her usual meticulousness, as though precision now felt futile.
Her hand brushed the camera resting on the nightstand, and she froze. Its weight felt heavier than it should when she picked it up. The small device, keeper of memories she hadn't dared to delete, now threatened to break her entirely.
Sinking down onto the edge of the bed, Elsa scrolled through the photos.
The laughter froze on her lips as an image of Jack posing awkwardly filled the screen. He was mock-leaning on an invisible cane, his expression so ridiculous it almost distracted her from the ache blooming in her chest. Almost.
Another click. Elsa chuckled softly as she found a picture of Jack with his messy hair. It had been one of those lazy mornings after a long night of stargazing outside their cottage. His hair was sticking up in every direction, a wild, unkempt mess, and his sleepy eyes squinted into the camera as he grinned sheepishly. He had looked so adorably dishevelled, his hands running through his hair as if trying to tame the unruly strands. The photo perfectly captured the raw, endearing charm he radiated even in his most effortlessly messy moments.
The next photo showed him leaning close, his lips pressed to her cheek while her lashes rested gently against her skin in pretended sleep. The tender smile curling the corners of his mouth was one she'd never forget.
Another picture flashed up. Jack had pizza sauce smudged across his nose, his head tilted slightly as he frowned, confused, while she snapped the shot.
But then came the photo.
The one that silenced her heartbeat and left her breathless. It had been taken by Sebastian, entirely candid and touching, on a serene afternoon by the lake.
There she was, standing with her head tilted back, her laughter captured mid-burst. Her hair shone in the soft light, and her eyes sparkled with unrestrained joy. It was a smile she hardly recognized; effortless, uninhibited, and whole. She remembered that day, the warmth of it, the impossible lightness.
And there was Jack. He stood beside her, his body angled toward hers with an instinctive reverence. His gaze wasn't on the camera. It was fixed on her, as though the rest of the world had faded into insignificance. His expression wasn't just love; it was devotion and a quiet, steadfast certainty that she was his entire world. His blue eyes glistened with something deeper, something unspoken yet palpable.
The photo blurred as tears filled Elsa's eyes, and the screen seemed too bright, too cruel, against her trembling fingers. The camera felt heavy in her hands, its weight a mirror to the memories suffocating her. She couldn't bear to look any longer.
With a trembling hand, she powered off the camera and dropped it into her purse.
The rest of her packing was hurried, almost frantic. Her belongings joined the bag in a jumbled heap, but the material things didn't matter.
The gifts Jack had given her stayed behind. Clothes, jewellery, books, everything was left tucked into drawers and closets. She wasn't being ungrateful. She just needed to leave the weight of their history here, in this house where it belonged.
When the bag's zipper finally clicked shut, she stood motionless for a moment, staring at the packed suitcases. Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a tight line to hold back the trembling. She glanced away quickly.
The creak of the stairs echoed louder than she had expected as she descended. The cottage's warmth wrapped around her one last time, the lived-in scent of pine and lingering coffee, the soft light that made the walls feel alive. But it didn't feel like hers anymore.
At the door, she stopped, drawn by the faint sound of footsteps.
Jack emerged from the living room, his hair dishevelled, his shoulders slumped. His sleeveless shirt was wrinkled, with a faint stain smeared near the hem. He moved as if carrying an invisible weight, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He said nothing, simply reaching for the bags beside her.
Their hands brushed barely, but the touch burned, sending a shiver through her.
Neither of them acknowledged it.
His movements were slow as he walked the bags to the car, his back straight but his head slightly bowed. The crunch of gravel under his boots broke the morning stillness, the sound grating against her frayed nerves.
He opened the car door with ease, stepping back quickly once she slid in. Elsa clutched her purse tightly in her lap, trying to steady her breathing, but it was impossible. The weight in her chest was unbearable.
Jack stood still for a moment, his hands resting against the open trunk as though he wanted to say something, to do something. But then, with a sharp breath, he stepped back. He didn't look at her. Didn't look at the car.
Elsa stared straight ahead, her vision blurring. She'd hoped, silently begged for him to stop her.
Even if she wouldn't.
Just one word, one touch, one plea for her to stay. A small, desperate voice inside her had whispered, Turn around, Jack. Please.
But he didn't.
Because they both knew she never would.
He walked back inside, with his head down. The door clicked shut behind him.
Sebastian's voice gently broke through the swirl of thoughts in Elsa's mind. "Ready to go, Mrs. Overland?"
She managed a smile, though it felt stiff, as if her lips had forgotten how to move that way. "Please, call me Elsa." A soft, hollow laugh escaped her, light as air. "Yes, let's go."
"Perfect, then, Elsa!" Sebastian's cheerful tone lifted the heaviness that had settled over them both. He hummed quietly as they drove, his eyes flicking back and forth from the road to the rearview mirror. His smile was warm, but Elsa could see the edge of concern beneath it. "Are you excited to go back? You must have missed your family."
The thought of Berk, of the faces of the people she loved, twisted something in her chest. "Very much," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
The silence that followed was longer this time, full of unspoken things. Sebastian broke it gently, his voice softer now. "You brought so much life to that cottage. It'll feel...empty without you." He glanced at her, a faint sadness in his eyes. "I've been honoured to serve you, Elsa. But...what happens now? Where will you and Jack stay?"
Her throat tightened as she swallowed, the lump too big to ignore. She whispered, barely able to speak the words. "It was a fake marriage, Sebastian. Jack and I…we've parted ways."
For a split second, Sebastian's smile faltered, his eyes flashing with understanding before they settled back into their usual calm. "I see...Well, I wish you both all the best, Elsa. Whatever path you take, I hope it leads to your happiness." His voice softened, but warmth lingered. "I will miss you."
"Thank you," she said, her voice thick with gratitude. She placed a hand over her heart, but the aching sense of finality seemed to deepen. "I'll miss you too, Sebastian. You became like family to me. Come visit Berk sometime, with your family. I'll show you around."
He chuckled, though there was still a lingering sadness in the smile he gave her. "Only if you promise to treat me like royalty."
"Of course! I learned from the best," she replied, her smile a little warmer now, the briefest flicker of light between them.
As the car came to a stop, Elsa couldn't shake the feeling that everything was happening too fast. The terminal ahead loomed like an unspoken farewell, a new chapter waiting for her, but there was an unsettling sense of the world slipping away. Families gathered around the terminal, saying their goodbyes, their love palpable in the air.
An elderly couple clung to each other, tears staining their cheeks, a reminder of everything Elsa longed for, but would never have.
Her chest tightened, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
Sebastian got out of the car to retrieve her bags, his usual buoyancy dimmed by the quiet sorrow in his eyes. He quickly returned, his gaze steady, but there was something more there now, a depth that felt too heavy for the moment.
"You are amazing," he said, his voice full of quiet appreciation. "You deserve every bit of happiness, Elsa."
Tears pricked at the corners of Elsa's eyes, and without thinking, she pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Sebastian. I'll never forget you. You've been like a father to me." The words came out muffled, but they were full of raw gratitude.
They pulled apart, and for a moment, everything felt unbearably final. Elsa gripped the cart tightly and walked toward the gate, determined not to look back, even though every part of her was begging her to.
She didn't turn around.
There was nothing behind her now but the fragments of what could have been. Only the uncertain path ahead. Only the weight of the life she was walking away from. But even as she walked forward, all she felt was the crushing weight of the life she was leaving behind.
The one who might have been.
The gate loomed ahead, and Elsa's footsteps echoed on the glossy airport floor, each step sharp and rhythmic, cutting through the fog of her thoughts. She could feel the pull of the plane, the final step of her journey, yet it felt distant, like something that wasn't entirely real. The noise of the crowd swirled around her, the bustle of last-minute goodbyes and hasty departures barely registering. It was as though everything around her was a blur, and she was moving in slow motion.
She didn't look back.
Once onboard, Elsa found her seat by the window and slid into it, adjusting the seatbelt over her lap as the flight attendants moved swiftly down the aisle, greeting passengers and making sure everyone was settled. The seat next to hers remained empty, a cold reminder of Jack's absence.
The flight attendants proceeded through the cabin, going over the safety instructions, and showing passengers the seat belt buckle, the oxygen mask, and the nearest exit. Elsa watched absently, her mind elsewhere, but mechanically took note of the procedures. As the final announcements were made, the cabin doors were closed, and the plane began to move towards the runway. The seatbelt sign flickered on.
The engines roared to life as the plane started taxiing, bumping along the tarmac toward the departure gate. Elsa squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, feeling the vibrations of the plane through the seat. She gripped the armrest, waiting for the moment when the plane would lift off.
And then it came...a sudden force against her body as the plane accelerated down the runway. Elsa's stomach dropped, the familiar unease of takeoff creeping in. The nose of the plane rose, the ground quickly shrinking away beneath them as they ascended into the night sky. She closed her eyes briefly, breathing in deeply as the plane made its climb, but kept them shut against the overwhelming feeling of moving upward, of leaving behind the ground that felt secure.
Once they were in the air, the captain's voice came through the speaker, a calm reassurance of their altitude and the smooth course ahead. Elsa could feel her pulse still racing, even as the gentle hum of the engines soothed the cabin into a quiet hum of passengers settled in for the long flight.
The flight attendants moved down the aisle once again, offering drinks and snacks. Elsa, too lost in her thoughts to feel hungry, simply asked for water, which she accepted numbly. She sipped slowly, her fingers absently tracing the condensation on the glass, her gaze wandering out the window.
Beneath her, the dark stretch of Iceland, illuminated only by scattered city lights, was disappearing fast. It felt almost surreal as if she were passing through another world entirely.
A few hours into the flight, the cabin lights dimmed to help passengers rest. Elsa, however, could not settle. Despite the peace of the air around her, she couldn't shake the feelings of uncertainty that gripped her heart. The quiet, though it normally comforted her, felt unbearable tonight. She tugged her blanket tighter around her shoulders, trying to push back against the cold, both inside and out.
The flight stretched on, and the plane continued its smooth journey toward Scotland. Elsa couldn't remember how long it had been since they took off or how much longer until they landed. She passed time by watching the endless stretch of sky, occasionally hearing the hushed murmurs of nearby passengers or the soft shuffle of attendants as they moved through the cabin.
Soon, the announcement for descent was made, and Elsa tensed. She was always anxious during landing. The descent felt like the world was rushing up to meet her, a forceful reminder that she was always at the mercy of the flight and the land below. Last time, Jack had been beside her, holding her hand through it.
This time, she faced the descent alone.
The plane started its descent into Scotland, the familiar feeling of gravity pulling at her chest, squeezing her as they neared the runway. The speed of the air was unmistakable, and the plane tilted, aligning for landing. Elsa's grip tightened again on the armrest, eyes shut as she braced for the landing gear to thump against the tarmac. The gentle whoosh of the engines, as they adjusted to land, drowned out everything else, leaving just the silence of her heart as the plane finally made contact with the ground with a soft bump.
Her breath was shaky as the plane began to slow, the slight rattle of the wheels on the tarmac beneath them signalling that they were now grounded. Elsa let out a relieved exhale she hadn't realized she'd been holding, but it was soon replaced by a quiet wave of uncertainty.
The captain's voice returned, announcing their safe landing in Berk, Scotland and instructing passengers to remain seated until the plane had come to a complete stop. Elsa let herself breathe more easily, looking out over the dark runway as the plane taxied toward the gate. The moment she had dreaded had passed, and yet she was already thinking of what lay ahead.
The plane rolled to a stop, the seatbelt sign flickered off, and Elsa stood slowly, collecting her things. The tension of the flight still hung on her shoulders as she moved toward the door, ready to leave.
And when she stepped off the plane.
She had arrived back home.
Messages
9:32 AM
Elsa - Can you pick me up from the airport in around 4ish hours?
Astrid - Absolutely! Why are you coming early? All good?
Elsa - I'll tell you when I get there.
Astrid - Ok Ly. Safe travels!