Day 5 in Bali
Sometimes the hardest part of leaving is knowing what to take with you.
The morning came quietly, wrapped in a soft haze that blurred the line between sea and sky. Natasha stood by the window of her villa, her suitcase was packed and close by. Outside, the garden shimmered with dew, the world holding its breath as if it, too, wanted her to stay a little longer. She needed to shower and get dressed.
Alex had already gone. No long goodbye, no dramatic farewell — just a note on the terrace table, written in a hurried hand: “Some things are better remembered in the morning light.” She smiled when she read it. It felt like him — honest, imperfect, and perfectly timed.
The walk from the Villa to the gate was one of the longest.
The driver waited by the gate. She gave one last look to the villa, to the rice fields beyond, and to the sky now brightening above the palms. The air carried that same mix of salt and jasmine she’d come to love — a scent she knew would linger long after she’d left.
As the car wound down the narrow road toward the coast, she watched the horizon widen. Her reflection shimmered faintly in the window glass — the woman who’d arrived searching for something, and the one now leaving with something entirely different.
Some endings are simply the beginning of something new.
At the airport, crowds moved like a tide, each person chasing their own story. She paused by a window overlooking the runway, the roar of distant engines blending with the quiet hum of her thoughts.
From her bag, she pulled her journal — the same one she’d begun on the first day in Bali. She wrote only a few words this time:
“Every ending leaves light behind.”
As the plane lifted, the island disappeared beneath a veil of cloud, the ocean glowing far below. Natasha closed her eyes, resting her head against the seat, and smiled. She was on her way to her next adventure in Thailand.
