All That Went Unsaid

Sophie Esinberg's POV

I learned I was going to Paris the same way I learned most life-altering information, over a phone call that began with someone else panicking. Historically, these calls had preceded events like discovering my landlord had sold the building and forgotten to give us notice, sleeping on the cold tile floor of an airport in Milan because my best friend misread P.M. as A.M., and being informed midway through my commute, while wearing a hoodie, that the "casual dinner" I was headed to was actually a black-tie fundraiser.

In fairness, context usually softened the blow.

Mr. Mekonnen was seventy-five and later diagnosed with Alzheimer's, so none of the tenants truly complained when he forgot to warn us before selling the building out from under our lives. Justin had always been enthusiastic and catastrophically bad at details, regardless of whether those details involved dinner plans or international flight times. And the last incident was simply the inevitable consequence of having two male best friends who treated logistics like an optional accessory.

They meant well. They just remembered important information at the very last possible second.

This time, it was Daniel.

Five minutes ago, he had called me, already breathless, and told me I needed to book flight tickets to Paris for tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

The word echoed in my head like a dare. As if I had a secret savings account labelled Emergency Paris Fund, just waiting for the right moment. As if spontaneous international travel was a lifestyle choice and not a financial threat.

I stared at my laptop, still closed, already exhausted by the idea of opening it. Somewhere between grant rejections and unpaid invoices, Paris felt less like a destination and more like a punchline.

And yet, my phone was still warm in my hand, Daniel's panic lingering in the air, and I knew from experience that once a call like this happened, resistance was mostly theoretical.

"It looks like I have to go to Paris", I told Justin as I opened my laptop and looked at the email sitting in my inbox where Daniel had replied on my behalf.

"You want to go to Paris, or you're being summoned by the French government?"

"I'm going for an event," I said biting the cuticles as I glanced at another email that was sent by the Ethiopian Government about an hour ago. Just another email sitting in my inbox, casually dropped into my morning like an unpinned grenade.

After reading it my heart sank so sharply it felt physical, like someone had driven a fist straight into my gut. I had stared at the screen, blinking again and again, as if the words might rearrange themselves out of mercy.

But they didn't.

"An event?" Justin's voice came through the phone and broke the stillness I had been clinging to.

I took a slow breath and told myself this was the only option left. That I had to go. That this event was my last chance to save