I made it, by myself. –Liana
Liana
I didn’t think success would look like this.
A half-drunk mug of tea next to my laptop. A spreadsheet with payment tracking open on one side, a lesson plan on the other. My wrist sore from typing.
And a smile on my face.
A real one.
I had three new students this week. One from Taiwan. One from Korea. One from somewhere in California who said she found me through my blog.
Yes. That blog.
It only had a handful of views. A few clumsy posts. But someone had read it. Someone had reached out. Said my story made them feel like maybe they weren’t too late to start.
I cried when I read that.
The translation jobs were small, but they came in. Product descriptions. A short e-book chapter. Two sets of interview questions for a travel startup.
Not glamorous. But mine.
I made a new folder on my desktop: “Income.”
Every time I dropped a completed job in there, I felt a little steadier.
Like I wasn’t floating anymore.
Like I was building something.
Not for him.
Not to prove anything.
Just because I could.
It was almost six when I closed the laptop. I’ve been working the whole afternoon. My body ached, but it was the good kind of tired.
The kind that came from climbing out of something.
I walked into the kitchen to make more tea. Pulled my hair up. Looked out the window.
The light was soft. The sky was bruised purple and orange.
I didn’t know what day he’d be back.
Or if he’d be back.
For the first time, I wasn’t counting the days he had left.
I was just living, on my own.
And then—
The front door clicked open.
My heart stopped.
I turned.
And froze.
Elias
“Hi, little princess. I’m home.”
I barely got the words out before she launched at me.
One second she was frozen in the kitchen with her hair up, tea in her hand, eyes wide like she thought I was a ghost.
The next, she was in my arms.
Crying.
Not the kind of cry that made sound.
The kind that hit like waves. Shoulders shaking. Fingers digging into my jacket. Breath coming in gasps.
I dropped everything. Held her as tightly as I could without crushing her. Buried my face in her hair and closed my eyes.
God, I missed this.
her smell. her warmth. everything.
I missed her.
Missed the way she smelled like shampoo and sleep. Missed the way her body folded into mine like she was built to fit there.
I didn’t speak. Not right away.
Just let her cry. Let her feel it. Let myself believe I was actually home.
When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were wet, lips trembling.
“You weren’t gone that long,” she whispered, like she was trying to convince herself. “It wasn’t that bad.”
I touched her face. “three weeks without you was the worst part of the job.”
She blinked. “What job? What happened? Where did you go?”
I exhaled slowly. “I was undercover.”
Her eyes widened again, this time with something sharper than surprise. “Undercover? Like—dangerous undercover with all the bad guys?”
I nodded. “We had to move fast. Deep cover. They wouldn’t let me say anything. I wanted to. But I couldn’t put you in danger. Not even a little.”
Her lower lip quivered again. “I thought—”
“I know,” I said, pulling her back into my chest. “I never meant to put you through this. I thought about you every damn day. Every second.”
She let out a shaky breath against my shirt.
I kissed the top of her head. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”
And I meant it.
