Seven Years of Love Seven Minutes of Truth

Chapter 12

Atlas took the tablet from his assistant, his fingers tightening around the edges as the screen flickered to life.

Even through the digital display, my presence struck him like a tidal wave.

His pulse pounded as he scrolled through the images I had taken–breathtaking landscapes, golden sunrises, endless oceans stretching far beyond the horizon.

Every shot was a masterpiece. Not just in composition, not just in color, but in something deeper.

Each frame held freedom.

Atlas stared at a particular photo–one of a cliff’s edge, the world vast and infinite beyond it.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak.

He didn’t know if he was remembering the promise he once made–to take me around the world. Or if he was

realizing just how far I had already gone without him.

His throat tightened. “Book me the next flight to A–Country,” he ordered, his voice clipped, urgent. “And keep tracking her location. I want updates every hour.”

Atlas arrived at the hotel where I was. He stood outside the door, his hand raised, fingers curled into a hesitant fist.

He couldn’t knock. His entire body was rigid, every breath he took uneven.

he didn’t knock. He sank onto the floor

the night, through the long hours of silence, his thoughts

came, the sound of footsteps broke

staff member had come to clean the room.

his head, his muscles stiff from staying in the same position for too long.

housekeeper said casually, unlocking the door. “Left early this morning. Didn’t check out, though.”

had dumped ice water over his chest.

his feet, swaying slightly,

led

his heart

too late–if I disappeared from his sight again–he didn’t know if

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of Love, Seven Minutes

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Chapter 12

see me again.

Then–his footsteps faltered.

back to him, sunlight dancing off the lens

pigeons.

too close, my face tilting

how to breathe. Happier than he had seen me in years.

the breeze, my smile so bright it

smile I had never worn when I was with him.