The sun hadn’t risen yet. The city was asleep, but my heart was pounding like a marathon runner’s. I couldn’t find a taxi, and the bus never showed up. It was cold—my hands were in my pockets, and my eyes kept drifting to the time.
Only seventeen minutes left until the flight.
I was running. My shoelace had come undone, but I couldn’t stop. I was racing against the seconds, breathless, my lungs burning. When the airport lights came into view, a strange glimmer of hope flickered inside me. But time seemed to speed up out of spite.
“Just one miracle,” I muttered to myself. “If only a miracle could happen…”
And at that moment, a miracle really did happen.
Standing at the entrance gate was my sister—whom I had argued with and parted ways from just a few days ago. She was holding my ticket. “You can’t leave like this,” she said, eyes filled with tears. “I won’t let you go alone.”
The security officers were still waiting. My passport was in my hand. I ran and hugged her tightly. The only thing going through my mind was the realization that the miracle wasn’t just about time—it was about love.
I made it to the flight.
But the real miracle was the thawing of the ice around my heart.