Chapter 8

He was with a group of friends; Madison was among them. Aiden carried her designer bag in one hand while his other arm wrapped around her waist. They walked at the rear of the group. Whenever Madison wanted to tell him something, she leaned in close, and he attentively bent down to listen. Not like with me.

Aiden had always been taller than I was, growing taller each year. I always had to tiptoe and crane my neck just to talk to him. I guess for someone he actually cares about, he makes the effort to meet them halfway.

I took a deep breath, telling myself to show some dignity. His life wasn't my business anymore; I'd slap myself if I kept overthinking this. But there seemed to be only one path to the gates, so I had no choice but to trail far behind them.

Finally, we reached a fork in the terminal. Aiden grew restless. He made several unanswered calls, then spent a long time staring at his phone. Finally, he borrowed a friend's phone and headed toward the restrooms, looking agitated.

Moments later, my phone rang—an unknown number.

"Brooklyn, you're really committed to this silent treatment, huh? Won't even reach out unless I make the first move? And blocking me? Real mature. Good luck keeping this up. Let's see how you handle Columbia alone when you don't know anyone there."

Aiden's tone was harsh. I stayed silent; there was nothing to say. This only seemed to anger him further.

"Whatever. Just unblock me on Instagram already. I'm heading overseas with friends for a couple of days; I might be hard to reach. Don't want you crying because you can't get hold of me."

I didn't respond, simply hanging up and turning off my phone.

From a distance, I watched him storm back to the group. He grabbed Madison's hand and headed left toward their gate without hesitation. I sighed, turned right, and walked away.