The plane sliced gently through the clouds. Jeon Misuk leaned her face against the cold window, breathing slowly. Her serious eyes hid a deep, almost painful relief. For the first time in years, she felt something close to freedom.
Two hours before boarding. In the silent room, Misuk zipped her suitcase with ritualistic precision. One wrong click could spark another argument — or worse.
The door burst open. Her father's harsh voice cut the air:
"You're not leaving, Jeon Misuk!"
She didn't turn. She kept arranging her things as if he were only a shadow.
"I'm talking to you!"
Minho roared. Misuk raised her eyes, cold and unyielding.
"You won't stop me."
A slap cracked against her face, burning.
Pain throbbed, but she held back the tears. Not anymore.
"I'll do what I want. You no longer control me."
With Faísca and Snow at her side, she crossed the yard without looking back.
Now, on the plane, her eyes fixed on the endless sky, she felt each cloud wash away the past. The horizon promised something she hadn't known in years: freedom. For the first time in a long while, she was truly free.