All Chapters of Your Lips to Mine #6: Skybound Hearts: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Sundays were usually my favorite days. They were quieter, slower—a time to breathe and collect myself before the week ahead. But this Sunday morning, as I sat at the kitchen table in Adrian’s apartment with a mug of coffee in my hands, my heart was anything but calm. Adrian was at the stove, making pancakes like he always did on our lazy mornings together. He was humming under his breath, a tune I couldn’t quite place, and the sound should have comforted me. Instead, my thoughts were spinning, a jumble of emotions I couldn’t quite untangle. Last night, he had brought it up for the first time. Marriage. The word hung in the air between us now, even though neither of us had spoken about it again. I wanted to be happy. I was happy with him—happier than I’d ever thought I could be. But the thought of tying our futures together in such a permanent way? It terrified me in a way I hadn’t expected. “Pancakes are ready,” Adrian said, turning around with a grin. He carried the plate to the

I glanced at my watch for the third time in ten minutes, an uneasy feeling twisting in my stomach. Adrian had promised to meet me for dinner tonight, but I was starting to accept that he wouldn’t make it. Again. The waiter passed by with an apologetic smile, and I waved him off, pretending that the glass of wine in front of me was enough to occupy my time. My phone buzzed on the table, and I grabbed it, half-hoping it was Adrian telling me he was on his way. Instead, it was a message from my airline, confirming my next flight schedule. A wave of frustration washed over me. This wasn’t the life I’d envisioned when Adrian and I had decided to make our relationship work. I understood that he was dealing with a crisis at his company—something about a competitor launching a campaign that was eating into his market share. He’d tried to explain it to me a few nights ago, but his words had been rushed, his tone distracted. All I knew was that it was consuming him. When the waiter approach

Adrian's change didn’t happen overnight. It started in small, almost imperceptible ways—an earlier return home, a quick kiss on my forehead before heading into his office, or a question about my day that wasn’t just a formality. But over time, those small gestures began to add up, creating a sense of closeness we hadn’t felt in weeks. One evening, I found him sitting at the kitchen table, laptop closed, staring at his phone with a furrowed brow. “Everything okay?” I asked, placing my bag on the counter. He looked up, and his expression softened. “Yeah, just trying to decide which tasks I can delegate for tomorrow. I promised you dinner, remember?” I smiled, walking over to kiss his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that.” “Yes, I did,” he said firmly, slipping his hand into mine. “I need to start putting us first.” At first, I didn’t know what to make of his newfound dedication. Adrian was a man who thrived on control—handing over even a small part of his responsibilities was like a

The decision wasn’t easy. In fact, it was one of the hardest choices I’ve ever had to make. For days, I wrestled with the pros and cons, replaying countless scenarios in my mind. I’d always prided myself on being able to make quick decisions—my job as a flight attendant often demanded it—but this? This was different. This wasn’t about managing turbulence or rerouting a flight plan. This was about my future. Adrian was supportive, as he always had been. But I could see the quiet pain in his eyes every time we discussed the offer. It was as if he was steeling himself for the inevitable, even though he tried to hide it from me. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he said one evening, his voice soft as we sat on the couch. I sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “I’ve just… I’ve been thinking a lot.” “About the job?” I nodded. “It’s not just about the job, though. It’s about us. About what this means for our relationship.” He reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I

It’s funny how life works. It can feel like things are moving along fine, even when they’re not. I think, in some ways, I was fooling myself. Adrian and I had been apart for months, and though we kept in touch—calls, texts, video chats—I could feel the distance between us creeping in, and not just physically. There was something else, something deeper, that we hadn’t addressed. It was there in the cracks of our conversations, the pauses where we both struggled to bridge the gap between us. I think we both knew it, but neither of us wanted to say it out loud. That is, until Adrian finally did. It was a Thursday night when I got the message from him. The words popped up on my phone screen, simple yet heavy, and the weight of them hit me hard. I had been sitting on the couch, scrolling through endless social media posts and trying not to think too much about the growing distance between us, when my phone buzzed. At first, I thought it might be another quick “how are you” text from him,