Dawn crept over the horizon in pale pink ribbons, painting the rolling hills around the cottage in a gentle glow. Amaya and Yasmine were already awake, sitting at the small kitchen table drinking coffee from mismatched mugs. Outside, the world stirred slowly—birds calling softly, a breeze rustling through the tall grass. It was quiet in a way neither of them had known for months.
"This place feels like a dream," Amaya said, tracing the rim of her mug with her fingertip. "I never imagined I could wake up somewhere without looking over my shoulder."
Yasmine watched her, eyes thoughtful. "It's… peaceful." She paused, taking a deep breath. "But it's not safe yet."
Amaya looked at her friend—no, her partner—in wonder. "We're safe from them now, aren't we? We're far enough away."
Yasmine's hand closed around her mug, knuckles white. "They can find us anywhere. My life doesn't just reset because I'm in a quieter town. They have resources." She looked out the window, eyes on the horizon. "I've been on the run for years, Amaya. It's not as simple as changing locations."
Amaya reached across and covered Yasmine's hand with her own. "Then we'll keep moving. We'll find a way to break contact for good."
Yasmine met her gaze, a flicker of hope in her eyes. "I want to believe that. More than anything."
Morning Preparations
The day was spent preparing for the journey ahead—securing fake IDs, gathering only necessities, and mapping potential safe routes. Amaya sat hunched over her laptop in the tiny living room, researching private investment accounts and offshore banks, while Yasmine sifted through clothes for the road.
Their cottage was sparse: a small sofa, a bed, a kitchenette. Personal touches—they hung the single painting Amaya had in her sketchbook and propped the ripped-then-mended portrait on the windowsill. It reminded them of how far they'd come.
"Do we really need burner phones?" Amaya asked, folding clothes into a duffel bag.
Yasmine shook her head. "Yes. And cash. No traceable accounts. We have to erase every breadcrumb."
Amaya tossed the shirt into the bag. "Okay. But we'll keep this trip short. We'll make enough noise to stay alive, and then find a way to vanish completely."
Yasmine paused, zipper in hand. "And after that?"
Amaya smiled. "We reclaim our lives. You draw, I write, we build something real out of this."
Yasmine's lips curved in a small, genuine smile. "I'd like that."
Midday – A Letter from the Past
Amaya swept open the front door to find a plain envelope tucked under the mat. She frowned—it was rare to get mail here. She handed it to Yasmine.
Yasmine turned the envelope over, eyes narrowing at the lack of return address. She tugged at the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
Alina,
We know where you are. Compliance is mandatory. Return by 0900 tomorrow or face consequences.
–HQ
Yasmine's face went pale. The words were fewer than usual, but the threat was unmistakable. Amaya's heart pounded.
"It's them," Yasmine said, voice tight. "They know."
Amaya slid to her feet. "We leave now. We move again tonight."
Yasmine shook her head. "We need a plan, not just speed. They'll be watching roads, monitoring hotels, even local camps. We need a secure route, inside help."
Amaya's eyes narrowed. "I know someone."
Yasmine looked at her. "Who?"
"My sister's friend—works at the shipping yard in the city. She can get us on one of their night freighters. It's risky, but we'll be far offshore before they can trace us."
Yasmine exhaled. "It's a start."
Afternoon – Packing for Escape
By early evening, their bags were packed. They each carried a small backpack: passports swapped for fakes, minimal cash, burner phones, and a few personal items—Yasmine's sketchpad, Amaya's journal.
Outside, the sky was streaked with violet and gold. Kilometers from Ridgewood High but still too close.
"Traffic will pick up soon," Amaya said, adjusting the straps on her pack. "We have until midnight to get to the yard."
Yasmine nodded, shoulders squared. "Let's go."
Night – Sneaking Out
Under cover of darkness, they slipped out of the cottage, locking the door behind them. The world was hushed except for the rustle of leaves. They walked the dirt road to the main highway, alert for any sign of pursuit.
Amaya led with a small flashlight; Yasmine followed, senses keyed to every sound. At the highway, they flagged down a prepaid cab—no questions asked—and rode in silence to the port city.
Midnight – The Shipping Yard
The yard was a maze of rusted containers and silent cranes under massive floodlights. Amaya's sister's friend, Mia, met them by a stack of containers, her face tense.
"Mia," Amaya whispered as she approached. "Thanks."
Mia nodded, handing them security badges. "Go through that gate and follow the east corridor to the freighter XT-42. I'll cover the logs. But they'll scan assets in the morning—be gone before then."
Yasmine gripped Amaya's hand. "Thank you."
Amaya pressed her lips to Yasmine's temple. "We're in it together."
They slipped through the gate into the belly of the freighter, muffled voices echoing in the holds. The ship groaned as it prepared to cast off at dawn.
Early Morning – At Sea
As the coastline vanished into the horizon, Amaya and Yasmine stood on the deck, wind whipping around them. The faint glow of city lights faded, replaced by endless water.
Amaya wrapped an arm around Yasmine's shoulders. "We made it."
Yasmine leaned into her, eyes closed. "We did."
They watched the sun rise over open sea, possibilities stretching boundlessly before them.
For now, the road ahead was clear.