London Looks Better on Me — Sophie's Midnight Goodbye

What? If Sophie had been the one humiliated in front of that client, would you have said, just make sure Sarah doesn't drink so much next time? He froze.

His mouth opened. Nothing came out. I walked around him and pushed open the lobby's glass doors. The sunlight outside was painfully bright.

He followed me for two steps. Sarah, what time's your flight? I'll drive you. No.

I didn't turn around. I'll drive you. I don't need you to anymore. The moment I walked out of the building, I let out a long breath.

For the first time in eight years, the road ahead felt so short that I couldn't understand why it had taken me so long to walk it. When I got home, there was a bouquet on my coffee table. Sunflowers. My favorite.

The card was in Sophie's handwriting. Sarah, I'm seeing you off tomorrow. No refusing. Promise you'll always be my best friend. I dropped the flowers into the trash beside the glittery bow clip.

My alarm went off three times at four in the morning, before I finally dragged myself out of bed. By the time I washed up and wheeled my suitcase outside, the hallway was pitch black.

The elevator doors opened. Sophie was standing inside. She wore a pink hoodie, her hair thrown into a messy bun. She had no makeup on.

There were dark circles under her eyes. She grinned and grabbed my suitcase. Come on. Luke's waiting downstairs.

I looked at her. I told you I didn't need anyone to see me off. Oh, come on. She hooked her arm through mine and dragged me toward the exit.

Who knows when you'll be back?