29. Home Safe
Home Safe
Natalia
The minute I close my door behind me, the morning attacks.
My suitcase is still open on the floor, clothes hanging from it like it attempted to escape and gave up halfway through.
My makeup is scattered across the desk. One heel is beneath the bed, the other somehow beside the bathroom sink, and I have less than an hour to transform myself from visibly ruined into a functional human being capable of international travel.
I stand there for a moment anyway, staring at nothing.
His smell is still on me. Sandalwood, warm skin, and something underneath that I can never figure out.
Spice, maybe? Something sexy and burning, which makes sense because the man is basically a walking fire hazard.
It’s ridiculous what he does to me. The scent of him is caught in my hair where his arm held me against his chest and pressed into my cheek from his pillow.
It lingers along my shoulder where his mouth kept finding me every time I tried to dress.
I don’t want to wash it away.
That thought is so pathetic I immediately strip and get into the shower.
The water turns hot, carrying the last few hours down the drain.
I wash my hair and soap my skin. Some stupid part of me feels sad about it.
Sad. About a fucking shower. Who the hell is this woman, and what did he do to me with those magic hands and that perfect fucking body?
I let out an irritated sigh, though I’m no longer sure who I’m angry at.
I thought I’d been into people before. I’ve dated men I genuinely liked. Men I found attractive. Men who could kiss well and make me laugh and look good beside me in photos. None of it ever felt like this.
No one has ever worked their way this deep beneath my skin.
My phone alarm goes off from the counter, reminding me I don’t have time for an emotional breakdown.
I rinse the conditioner from my hair, wrap myself in a towel, and begin the emergency reconstruction of Natalia Sawadzka.
Forty minutes later, I’m dressed, packed, moisturized, highlighted, and wearing sunglasses large enough to conceal both exhaustion and poor choices.
Kasia knocks. I can tell it’s her by the sound alone.
I let her in, then return to the monumental task of closing my suitcase.
“You ready?”
“In progress.”
She takes in my suitcase and the fact I’m still attempting to force a curling iron into an already-full bag.
“It needs some Polish encouragement,” I say, pressing my full weight onto it as I try to force it shut.
“It needs less shit,” she says with a sigh. Finally, she comes over and presses her weight onto the case while I drag the zipper around it.
If she notices I’m moving like every muscle has been intimately introduced to Kiri’s body, she mercifully keeps that suspicion to herself.
Breakfast is at a tiny café Rafe found somewhere between the hotel and the airport.
Everything is insanely cute. The omelets have little faces made from seaweed and ketchup has been turned into adorable smiling cheeks.
Rafe’s coffee arrives with a bear floating in the foam, which he studies like some sort of science experiment.
I take pictures of all of it because I'm still me, no matter what might be happening.
My brain can process heartbreak, exhaustion, international travel, and content strategy at the same time.
Sadness might ruin my appetite, but it will not destroy my engagement rate.
I adjust one of the plates closer to the window and take another photo.
“You okay?” Kasia asks.
I don’t look up from my phone. “Wonderful.”
Rafe makes a sound that suggests he finds that answer unlikely.
I glance between them. “What? I’m sad the trip is over. It was amazing.”
That part, at least, is true.
Kasia reaches across the table and squeezes my wrist. “We'll visit again.”
“Yeah, one day.” I smile brightly enough to end the conversation. “I'm fine, I’m just tired.”
They exchange a glance but let it go. The rest of breakfast disappears into a blur of suitcases, black coffee, Rafe checking the time, Kasia trying not to cry, and me posting a carousel of adorable eggs as though my chest doesn’t feel like someone packed it incorrectly and forced the zipper shut.
The airport is hell. Ticketing. Baggage. Passports. Announcements in two languages. The entire place moves around me while my brain stays trapped in a hotel doorway several miles behind us.
I keep expecting to see Kiri. Every tall man in black grabs my attention.
I catch a man wearing a leather jacket in the corner of my eye, and something inside me leaps before common sense drags it back down.
He said coming would make things obvious.
I know he’s right. I still hate him a little for being right.
At the entrance to security, Kasia finally stops pretending she's okay. She throws both arms around Rafe and buries her face against him. He crushes her against him, cradling the back of her head and stroking her hair.
“It won’t be long,” he says into her hair. “I promise, okay? A month. That’s it, then we're back in L.A. And if I have to take a red-eye in between gigs just to see you for one fucking day, I will. Please don’t cry, Kas.”
She nods, but tears are already sliding down her face. Rafe kisses each one as if he can catch them before they fall.
Watching them makes me feel like shit, both for them and because of them.
Because they’re allowed to love each other.
They can stand in the middle of an airport and hold on like separation is an emergency.
He can promise to cross an ocean for twenty-four hours without worrying someone might notice how much he cares.
My own tears rise before I can stop them.
I let a few escape but not enough to raise questions.
Just enough to look like I’m emotional for my sister, overwhelmed by their goodbye, devastated on her behalf.
No one has to know I’m remembering Kiri’s mouth against mine.
Next time I see you, if you still want me, I won’t hold back.
If? What an idiot. As though wanting him is something I could just recover from.
Rafe finally releases Kasia and looks at me. His own eyes are suspiciously bright, tears threatening to wreck all that carefully maintained stoic charm. He pulls me into a quick, hard hug and pats my shoulder.
“Take care of her.”
I nod. I have no idea how I’m supposed to take care of anyone when my own heart feels like it's been thrown around like luggage at check-in, but I’ll figure it out.
“That’s what sisters are for.”
On the plane, Kasia lasts all of five minutes before her denial breaks. She settles into her seat, buckles herself in, wipes beneath her eyes, and stares furiously out the window. She’s angry at herself for not being braver, stronger—a painfully familiar Sawadzka family trait.
“This is stupid,” she mutters. “I should be used to this.”
“You shouldn’t have to be used to missing someone.”
“I’ll see him soon. A month is literally nothing.”
“It'll pass quickly, you'll be busy as usual.”
“Exactly. It’s not forever.”
Her voice breaks on the last word. I lift the armrest between us and pull her against me before she can object. She resists, stiff with the need to remain dignified, then gives in and slumps against my chest.
“It’s stupid,” she says again. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
Her tears soak into my shirt. I hold her tighter and rest my cheek against her hair.
My own tears come quietly. It’s almost a relief, having her tucked against me.
She can’t see my face. I can let the tears fall and pretend every one of them belongs to her heartbreak instead of mine.
For several minutes, I get to be devastated without explaining myself and supportive without lying.
When the plane takes off, both of us have cried ourselves empty enough to sleep.
The flight home passes in pieces. Connecting flights, followed by bad movies.
Neck pain. Half-eaten airplane meals. Kasia waking and immediately checking her phone despite there being no service.
Me staring at the dark screen of mine and wondering what Kiri is doing.
Gym, probably. Another bus. Then I remember the bus in Tokyo and the way he held me.
Maybe he's at soundcheck. The memory of his bass vibrating through the soles of my feet a few days ago makes me weak.
Soon he'll be in another city, another hotel room.
One without our smell trapped in the sheets.
All the machinery of his life already moving ahead without me.
When we finally land in Seattle, the sky is exactly as gray as I remembered.
Kasia drives me home through streets slick with rain, talking about nothing important because neither of us has the energy for anything else.
The second she pulls up outside Mama and Tata’s house, normal life swallows me whole.
Before I’m even through the door, I hear Mama calling from the kitchen, Kacper shrieking with laughter, and Aga threatening consequences that clearly mean nothing to him.
He races past me, squealing, wearing one sock and carrying a wooden spoon like he's getting away with a crime. Aga follows with the other sock in one hand and the expression of a woman reconsidering every decision that led her here. Amelka sits in a portable playpen near the sofa, happily throwing plastic blocks over the side just to watch them bounce. Every time one hits the floor, she gurgles with delight as though she’s just discovered gravity.
Zosia is still at school. Dominik is at work. Tata is at the shop and won’t be home for another few hours, which means the house is technically operating below capacity and somehow still loud enough to shatter every thought before it can finish forming. For that, at least, I’m grateful.
Amelka spots me and throws another block in my direction.
“Excellent aim,” I tell her. “Very welcoming.”
“Kochana!” Mama calls from the kitchen. “You’re both home!”
She appears in the doorway wiping her hands on a dish towel, crosses the room, and pulls me into a hug that smells like onions, flour, and the same perfume she’s worn since I was little. Then repeats the same ritual on Kasia.
“I made sandwiches,” she says, squeezing Kasia's face between both hands. “You both must be starving after that flight.”
“We ate on the plane,” Kasia says.
“That's not food.”
There's no point arguing with her because she's objectively right.
“Put your bag away, kochana, eat something, then come help me with the pierogi. Tata and I thought you'd need something hearty after being away from us.”
Apparently I’ve crossed an ocean only to be assigned lunch and onions.
“Can I exist for five minutes first?”
“While you eat some lunch, yes.”
Kasia laughs from the doorway, hugs me, and escapes before Mama can assign her potatoes. “I’m exhausted. I’m heading home for a nap.”
Mama tuts, but Kasia is already out the door before she can protest. After a moment, Mama retreats to the kitchen.
I check the time on my phone. Zosia will be home from school soon.
Dominik will arrive later covered in construction dust. Tata will come through the door expecting every detail of Korea and Japan while Mama feeds me enough to undo any weight loss I might have experienced abroad.
It’s loud like always, warm, chaotic. Home.
Usually, stepping into all of this settles something in me.
Today, it feels like my life has resumed before I’m ready to be inside it.
I haul my suitcase upstairs and push open the door to my room.
Everything is exactly where I left it. Ring light in the corner.
Makeup lined across the vanity. Clothes overflowing from the dresser.
My bed freshly made for my arrival with the floral blanket Mama insists looks expensive.
I close the door behind me. For the first time since the airport, I’m alone.
Kiri told me to message him. I collapse onto the edge of my bed and open our chat. My thumbs hover over the keyboard.
Home.
Seems cold.
I made it!
Too enthusiastic, he'll start getting more cocky. I don't think I could survive that.
I’m back safely <3
No fucking way. The heart feels like a confession. Maybe a kiss? No, that's worse. An emoji? Which one? The crocodile would be insane. Funny, but insane. I type three more messages, delete every one, then finally send:
Made it home safe.
The message delivers. I stare at it, convinced it sounds cold enough that he'll suspect I’m in a hostage situation. Before I can decide whether to follow it with something less socially awkward, his contact information fills my screen. Incoming call.
From downstairs in the kitchen, Mama shouts, “Natalia! The onions!”
I stare my phone while it continues vibrating in my hand.
Then, finally, I take a deep breath and decide to answer.