“I didn’t vanish,” I said. “I left.”
He watched me like he was trying to see the version of me he remembered.
“Why?”
Because I couldn’t lose anyone else.
Because I wasn’t built to watch another sky burn.
But I didn’t give him poetry.
I gave him truth.
“I was tired of funerals,” I said.
He nodded like he understood, or like he’d heard it before.
A folder slid onto the table. Thick. Sealed. Marked in plain warning language.
“Your call sign was never fully deactivated,” he said. “Every tower, every base… it still recognizes you.”
I stared at the folder.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” I murmured.
He gave me a tight smile. “Maybe fate didn’t care what was supposed to happen.”
Another officer rushed in, holding a secure tablet like it was fragile.
“Sir,” he said. “We received an encrypted ping minutes after her transmission.”
