They Canceled My Ticket I Canceled Them Chapter 02
By the time our plane landed at Seattle-Tacoma, it was two in the afternoon.
The air was warmer than forecast. As we stepped out of the terminal, heat shimmered off the asphalt.
Madison donned an enormous sun hat and popped open a parasol.
“It’s so hot. Marcus, let’s just get to the hotel.”
Marcus pushed her suitcase with one hand while calling a rideshare with the other.
“The car’s already at the pickup zone.”
Daniel and Tyler followed, carrying several bags of snacks Madison had bought at the airport.
I trailed a few steps behind them, wheeling my own carry-on.
No one looked back to see if I was keeping up.
When we arrived at the waterfront hotel, the front desk clerk took Daniel’s license.
“You have one king room with an ocean view and two standard double rooms.”
Daniel nodded.
Madison stood beside Marcus, pressing a hand to her temple.
“I just haven’t been sleeping well. I’m afraid I’ll be up all night if I have to share a room.”
Marcus’s voice softened.
“That’s fine. You take the ocean-view king.”
He turned to Daniel.
“I’ll bunk with you. Tyler, you mind taking the other room alone?”
Tyler shrugged.
“Sure. It’ll be quieter.”
The clerk set three key cards on the counter.
The four of them acted as if it was all decided.
I stood there, watching them take the keys.
The clerk looked from me to them.
“And for this lady?”
Only then did Marcus turn to me, as if he’d just noticed I was there.
“Ellie, you can stay with Madison. The bed’s big enough.”
Madison looked slightly uncomfortable.
“Ellie, you don’t snore, do you? I’m a really light sleeper.”
Tyler laughed.
“Don’t worry. She sleeps like a rock.”
I looked at Marcus. He hadn’t asked what I wanted, and he clearly saw nothing wrong with the arrangement.
My grip tightened on my suitcase handle.
“I’m not sharing a bed with anyone.”
Marcus’s brow furrowed.
“Do you have to make a scene about this, too? It’s Labor Day weekend. Every hotel around here is booked. If you won’t stay with Madison, where exactly are you planning to sleep?”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Ellie, stop making things difficult. We’re on vacation.”
I didn’t argue. I set my credit card and license on the counter.
“Do you have anything else available? Any room type is fine.”
The clerk tapped at his keyboard.
“We have one interior room left. No windows. It’s next to the elevators, so it might be noisy.”
“I’ll take it.”
I swiped my card and paid.
They stood beside me and watched as I used my own money to book the worst room in the hotel. Not one of them offered to change the arrangement.
Marcus let out a cold laugh.
“Fine. If you want to make yourself miserable, that’s your choice.”
Madison slipped her arm through his.
“Don’t say that. Ellie’s always been independent. Let’s just go put our bags down. I’m sweating through my dress.”
They took their key cards and headed for the express elevator to the upper floors.
I turned toward the regular elevators on the other side.
The room was tiny. There was just enough space between the bed and the wall to open my suitcase.
I’d barely sat down on the edge of the bed when my phone buzzed. A screenshot from a four-person chat flashed in our group of five, then vanished. Madison had unsent it.
It was on the screen for only an instant, but I saw it.
Tyler: *What’s for dinner?*
Madison: *I’m craving oysters. There’s a place near Pike Place with amazing reviews.*
Marcus: *Okay. I’ll book it.*
Daniel: *What about Ellie?*
Tyler: *Same as always. Make her guess. After that stunt at the front desk, she can deal with the consequences.*
All that was left was the gray system text: *Madison unsent a message.*
I looked at the line and let out a dry laugh.
Ten minutes later, Marcus sent a message to the group of five.
*Seven tonight. Usual arrangement.*
No restaurant name. No address.
The “usual arrangement” was just another loyalty test, another demand that I prove I deserved a place in their circle.
I didn’t reply.
I opened my email. An unread message sat in my inbox.
It was from an international design group in Paris. I had passed the final interview. They were offering to handle my work permit and relocation.
Three years ago, I had received an offer from the same group.
Back then, Marcus had held my hand, his eyes red-rimmed.
“Please, don’t go to Paris. Stay here. I’ll build a home with you.”
For that one sentence, I gave up the opportunity. I stayed in Chicago and helped him grow a tiny design studio into a company.
Three years had passed.
In the home he’d promised me, a guest room was always kept ready for Madison. She could stay over whenever she wanted, while I wasn’t even allowed to move the things she left in the bathroom.
I opened the email and tapped *Accept Offer*.
The company’s immigration team already had the next set of documents prepared. I would start onboarding remotely next week and fly to the headquarters in Paris two weeks later.
I turned off my phone, changed into comfortable clothes, and left the hotel alone.
The evening sea breeze carried a chill.
I didn’t go to Pike Place Market, and I didn’t try to guess which oyster restaurant they had chosen.
I found a tiny hole-in-the-wall and ordered a turkey sandwich and a cup of hot tomato soup.
Halfway through my meal, the group chat began to light up.
Tyler: *Elena Preston, where are you? It’s 7:30.*
Madison: *Did Ellie get lost? Should we send her the address?*
Marcus: *No. If she can’t even guess the restaurant, one hungry night won’t kill her.*
I glanced at the messages, then slowly finished the last spoonful of my soup.
After paying, I bought a lemonade and walked back to the hotel, letting the cool sea wind wash over me.
Their dinner and their game had nothing to do with me anymore.