It took a few days to gather my things. I believed it would be a temporary stay so I wasn't letting go of my apartment in Lisbon.
I tried my best to go to work as usual, keeping a poker face like my mind was not spiraling with thousands of thoughts.
The bell above the bakery door jingled, that same cheerful chime I'd heard a hundred times before. Today, it felt wrong — too light for the heaviness sitting in my chest. I forced on the polite smile I'd perfected over the last two years and greeted the couple walking in. They didn't know me. Not really. To them, I was just another cashier at Valente's. Not the owner. Not the woman who'd built this place from the ground up in a foreign city.
Well, that was the point.
While I adjusted the trays of pastel de nata, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket. One glance at the screen made my pulse trip.
Massimo: Your flight's booked. Tomorrow.
