The guard swallowed, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse. But then he nodded, stepping aside reluctantly, his radio crackling to life as he moved to make the call. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly.

My father turned to me, his expression softening, and for the first time in years, I saw the man who had once been my hero. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you out of here.”

We walked to the jet together, the engines humming softly, a promise of escape in their steady thrum. As we climbed the steps, I glanced back, half-expecting some last-minute betrayal of fate. But the guard remained by the terminal, a figure diminished by the distance and the decision he’d made.