Months later, Jack found himself standing on the platform of Angel Station, the familiar hum of the London Underground filling his ears. The tiled walls stretched before him, the scent of damp concrete and oil grounding him in the moment.

  The train arrived, its doors sliding open with a mechanical hiss. Jack stepped inside, finding a seat near the window.

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  As the train began to move, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ticket. The word "Free" had faded now, its edges worn and frayed, but Jack held onto it as a reminder.

  Not of the Terminal, or the fear, or the endless corridors.

  But of the choice he had made. To stop running. To let go.

  The train rattled forward, carrying him into the warmth of the city beyond.