(Listen to the voiceover or scroll through this conversation, one scene at a time)
“So… this is it?”
Her voice is soft, like she’s already missing the version of me that still sits beside her.
I nod. “Yeah. Five years.”
A smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
Doesn’t feel real yet.
You were one of the first. I still remember your onboarding Zoom.
I laugh. I was terrified.
New role. New team. Twenty people staring back at me through tiny boxes.
They called it leadership. I called it: try not to mess this up.
But you didn’t.
Not all the time, no.
I pause, remembering.
There were moments my voice shook. But I kept going.
I kept building even when I didn’t know what the end would look like.
You made it look easy.
It never was.
I was constantly on the spot — presenting, deciding, solving, leading.
Sometimes I felt invisible. Sometimes, painfully visible.
But I kept showing up.
Even when people were sharp. Even when I lost things I’d poured myself into.
Was it worth it?
I don’t answer immediately.
There were hard days.
But most days… I found grace. Real people.
And “Mumbai”
My smile shifts — this one holds weight and warmth.
That team changed everything.
We built something together — not just processes, but trust.
They helped me breathe again.
Some still call me their manager.
Some call me friend.
Both… matter.
I hope they know what they meant to you.
I hope so, too.
I glance down at my half-finished coffee.
And to the ones who doubted me… it’s okay.
I know now what I’m capable of. And that’s more than enough.
So why leave now?
The silence between us grows thick for a second. Then:
Because what started as a layover slowly became a comfort zone.
And I wasn’t made to stay comfortable.
I was made to keep growing.
Do you know what’s next?
Nope.
A quiet laugh. I look out the window like there’s an answer in the sky.
I don’t have a five-year plan anymore.
Just a passport, a curious heart, and a hunger to meet the next version of myself.
That sounds… terrifying.
It is.
I meet her eyes.
But staying still? That’s scarier.
So this is goodbye?
This is thank you. 😇
I reach for my bag — not just the physical one, but the one filled with every moment, every lesson, every version of me I’ve become.
This wasn’t just a job.
It was a journey.
A pause. Then I smile, one last time.
And now — I’m boarding the next one.
Closing Note from Me:
This isn’t just a farewell.
It’s a quiet celebration — of growth, discomfort, friendship, and finally, flight.
If you’ve ever outgrown something beautiful… then this one’s for you too :)
Quiet Escapes 