Chapter 8 - The Passport I Never Needed Again
One year later, Marcus handed me something.
The old passport.
Eliza Carter.
The woman who was officially dead.
I looked at it.
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Whatever you want.”
I opened it.
The old photograph stared back.
A frightened woman.
Running.
Hiding.
Pregnant.
I didn't recognize her anymore.
“She saved us,” Marcus said.
I looked at him.
“What?”
“That woman.”
He pointed to the picture.
“She ran because she thought she was protecting her child.”
“She was.”
“She was brave.”
I smiled.
“I was terrified.”
“Both can be true.”
I tore the passport in half.
Then again.
Then again.
Marcus watched.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't need to be dead to be free.”
He smiled.
That night, he took me to the restaurant where we met.
It had been renovated.
No criminal ties.
No hidden rooms.
No surveillance.
Just tables.
Music.
People laughing.
He reached into his pocket.
I froze.
“Marcus.”
“I know.”
He smiled nervously.
“I promised not to control your life.”
He took out a ring.
“So I am not going to ask you to belong to me.”
He knelt.
“I am asking whether I can belong to you.”
I cried.
“Yes.”
Sophia was in the corner with my mother.
She screamed:
“Daddy got Mommy a ring!”
Everyone laughed.
Marcus stood.
He kissed me.
And for the first time, there was no fear.
May you like
No secret.
No need to run.
