REPORTERS
288 Vouchers
REPORTERS
LAURA
The nurse helped guide me into my seat, her hands gentle but firm as she made sure I was secure. I bit my lip, trying to ignore the deep frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I hated this. Hated needing help for everything.
The airport had already drained me more than I cared to admit.
Reporters had been everywhere. Cameras flashing in my face, microphones shoved too close, voices overlapping in an unrelenting storm of invasive questions.
“Laura, how does it feel knowing your husband moved on with your daughter’s teacher?”
“Are you mentally fit to return home?”
“Can you walk? Are you able to take care of your child?”
Like I was some sort of spectacle. A tragic story to be dissected, to be whispered about in headlines and morning shows.
The worst part?
I had nothing to say.
Because what could I say? That I didn’t blame Josh? That I wasn’t mad? That I understood?
11:13
REPORTERS
288 Vouchers
Even if all of that was true, it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
I had forgiven him. I knew I had. But that didn’t erase the ache that settled deep in my bones when I let my mind wander too long.
It was easier during the day, when Asha was around, her bright blue eyes–Josh’s eyes–watching me with careful curiosity, her soft blonde curls falling over her face as she played.
She was still shy, still unsure about me.
And I didn’t blame her for that, either.
I was a stranger to her.
Her mother, but not Mommy.
That was something I would have to earn.
The nurse sat beside me as the plane took off, her presence a silent reassurance. The flight was long–too long. Ten hours of being stuck in this seat, stuck in my own head.
The hum of the engines became white noise as exhaustion pulled at me, but every time I closed my eyes, flashes of the accident came rushing back.
The sharp impact.
The feeling of weightlessness before my body hit something hard.
Then… nothing.
Just darkness.
11:137
REPORTERS
I remembered waking up. I remembered pain. But I didn’t remember a single second of the years in between.
1288 Vouchers
To me, it felt like I had gone to sleep one night and woken up the next day. Except, in reality, three years had passed.
Asha had grown. Josh had grieved, moved on, found someone else.
And I… I had missed all of it.
My fingers clenched slightly against the armrest, and I forced myself to focus on something else.
I turned my head toward the window, watching the clouds stretch endlessly beneath us.
When I got back home, I would have work to do.
I needed to walk again. I needed to regain my strength. I needed to be a mother to my daughter.
I needed to be me again.
The wheels of the plane hit the ground with a jolt, and I let out a slow breath, my body tense from being in the same position for so long. I hated flying before the accident–being stuck in a metal tube, thousands of feet in the air, with no control over anything–but now, after everything, it was even worse.
The nurse beside me helped unbuckle my seatbelt and gently placed a hand on my arm. “We’ll wait until most of the passengers deboard. Give you a little more space.”
I nodded, grateful for her thoughtfulness, but I was barely paying attention. My mind was still caught on the reality I had
11:137
REPORTERS
288 (Vouchers
only fully processed a few hours ago.
I wasn’t going home.
At least, not to the home I remembered.
Now, I was going to Texas.
Texas.
Of all places.
I still didn’t quite understand why. Jess had explained it to me between helping me pack up at the hospital, but my brain was still so foggy, and I barely remembered what she said. Something about Josh needing a fresh start. About Asha needing stability. About Texas being a better place for them both.
It made sense.
But it didn’t change the fact that I felt like I was heading to a stranger’s house instead of my own.
My body was too exhausted to panic, but my mind was whirling.
Would it feel like home? Would my things be there? Had Josh kept anything of mine?
Would I feel like I belonged?
I swallowed hard and rubbed my hands together, my fingers still weak and trembling. I knew the anxiety wasn’t helping, but I couldn’t stop the thoughts from circling, couldn’t shake the nagging ache in my chest.
11:13
REPORTERS
288 Vouchers
“Are you okay?” the nurse asked softly.
I nodded again. “Just… tired.”
She smiled in understanding, and as the last of the passengers trickled out, she stood and gestured for the flight attendant to bring the aisle chair. I sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. I wasn’t strong enough to walk on my own yet, and after ten hours on a plane, I wouldn’t even be able to stand.
So, I let them help me.
I let them strap me in.
I let them wheel me down the narrow aisle and off the plane, Lignoring the curious stares from the flight crew and the few stragglers still waiting to board for the next flight.
