Chapter 3

Three months ago, Elias pushed a homegrown stealth fighter jet to its limits in an extreme test flight.

The day the news broke, the entire Voss family was buzzing with excitement.

Mara sent dozens of voice messages in the family group chat, each one saying, "Elias is the pride of the Voss family."

His father, Hugo Voss, who rarely drank, had a few extra shots of whiskey at dinner.

With misty eyes, Hugo gave Elias several firm pats on the shoulder, but couldn't get a single word out.

The celebration party was set for Saturday night, with five tables set up in the courtyard of the Voss residence.

I'd been getting ready for it for the past two weeks.

I was pulling all-nighters at the lab, and every time I got home, I'd head straight to my room and get lost in building that jet model.

It was a 1:200 scale, and every curve on the wings had to be spot-on, down to the last millimeter.

I used lightweight composite materials made for model planes, sanding and painting the shell over and over until the surface was polished enough to catch my reflection.

The real star of the show was the tiny navigation system hidden inside the model.

I built a custom anti-jamming algorithm into the chip, so it could still track its location with razor-sharp accuracy, in heavy electromagnetic interference.

I wrote tens of thousands of lines of code for this system.

I ran hundreds of simulation tests to make sure it would never drop its signal, no matter how tough things got.

I'd run through a hundred different ways I might give it to him.

Maybe he'd stop and really check out how detailed the model was.

Or maybe, if his jet ever ran into some serious electronic interference, this system could help him find his way home.

I carefully packed the model into a box and tied it up with a silver ribbon.

On the night of the celebration party, I arrived early.

When Mara saw me, her mouth turned down slightly. She said, "Sit down," and then turned away to greet the other guests.

Elias was sitting right in the middle of the main table, surrounded by people toasting him.

He was dressed in a dark uniform, his rank insignia glinting under the lights, his expression reserved and unreadable, occasionally giving a nod in response.

I waited for over an hour before I finally got a chance to walk up to him. "Elias, congratulations on finishing the test flight."

I held out the box, trying to smile like it was no big deal. "I made this model myself. There's a little surprise inside. Maybe you'll find it useful..."

But he didn't let me finish.

He glanced at the box, took it from me without a second thought, and dropped it onto the chair beside him.

His tone was as casual as talking about the weather. "Yeah, leave it there."

Then he turned to look past me, a small smile curving his lips. "Wren, you're here."

Wren was wearing a pale yellow dress, holding a delicate gift bag in her hand.

She smiled warmly and gracefully. "Elias, congratulations. I know you love writing, so I got you this limited-edition fountain pen. The nib is hand-polished, and it writes like a dream."

Elias took the pen and examined it closely, his smile deepening. "You always know what I need. My last pen broke, and I never found one that felt right."

"You mentioned it to me before, and I remembered," Wren said, giving me a sweet, gentle smile. "Elowen, you're here, too? What did you get him?"

I didn't answer.

Elias had already picked up the box from the chair and carelessly flung it into the corner.

The box hit the floor with a dull thud, and I heard something inside shatter.

Mara walked over, glanced at the box in the corner, and then looked at me.

Her tone was dripping with disdain. "Elowen, after all these years in school, what have you actually learned?

"Always messing around with pointless stuff? Do you have any idea how busy Elias is? Wren is so much more mature and independent than you'll ever be."

A few people nearby chuckled in agreement.

I stood there, my nails digging into my palms, but I didn't feel a thing.

Elias was already deep in conversation with Wren.

He looked down at her with such focus, tilting his head a little as he listened. His eyes on her were nothing like the way he ever looked at me.

I thought about the shattered navigation system inside that box.

I'd pulled three all-nighters soldering that circuit board, every wire placed by my own hands.

I found the box in the corner, held it close to my chest, and murmured, "'I'm leaving now.'"

No one heard me.

The wind was howling that night as I walked down the long alley, holding the box tight against me, without ever looking back.