Landing at Last
We stepped through the revolving doors of the Oceanview Resort, the air scented with salty sea spray and fresh-cut pine from the lobby’s towering Christmas tree.
Ethan slipped his arm around my waist, his grin the same one that had gotten us the upgrade to the ocean‑front suite.
The kids—Mia, six, and twins Jonah and Lily, four—bolted toward the play area, squealing as the marble fountain splashed.
“Mommy, look! A dolphin!” Lily shouted, pointing at the giant screen looping beach footage.
I inhaled deeply, feeling the stress of months of spreadsheets melt into the warm, tiled floor.
“We’re finally here,” I whispered, more to myself than to anyone else.
Ethan checked in at the front desk, handing the clerk a stack of passports while I handed over the luggage tags.
“Room 307, sea view, king‑size,” the attendant said, sliding the key across the polished wood.
We rode the elevator up, the soft hum echoing above the distant hum of children’s laughter.
The hallway smelled faintly of vanilla candles; the door to our room stood open, a balcony stretching out to the turquoise horizon.
“Can we go straight to the pool?” Jonah begged, already tugging at my hand.
“Just a minute, sweetie,” I said, setting down the suitcases, feeling a hopeful flutter in my chest.
We were together, at last, ready for a week of sun, sand, and the smile I’d been promising myself for months.
The Unexpected Departure
See more on the next page
