Letting go of my things was harder than I expected. But it wasn’t just about selling stuff — it was about leaving behind an old version of myself. I bought a one-way ticket to Elizabeth’s town, fueled by a simple, hopeful belief: that love could find me again, no matter my age.

As the plane rose into the evening sky, I pictured her smile, heard the sound of her voice in my mind. Then, halfway through the flight, a sudden, sharp pain gripped my chest. Darkness started closing in. The worried voice of a flight attendant was the last thing I heard before everything went blank.

Caught between what I’d left behind and the uncertain road ahead, between the safety of the past and the risk of new love—I had taken a leap. And in that fragile moment, my heart was open at last.