# Chapter 44: The Only Plane
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 44 of *The Girl They Left Behind* free digital audiobook. This is one of those chapters that grips your heart and doesn’t let go — a chapter of dawn secrets, running footsteps, and a truth that shatters everything Natalia thought she knew. So settle in, take a deep breath, and let me guide you through every trembling moment.
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The first pale light of morning crept into Natalia's room like a cautious friend, urging her forward. She had made her decision. She would slip away before anyone could stop her, before her mother could fuss over breakfast, before her father could ask those impossible questions again. She couldn’t bear to repeat her lie a second time. No, it was better this way — quiet, swift, almost like a dream.
She moved through the silent apartment, her bare feet whispering across the floor. In the bathroom, she locked the door and splashed cold water on her face, brushed her teeth, combed her hair a dozen times until it gleamed, and clipped it back with a silver barrette. When she tiptoed back into her room, daylight had already spilled across the walls. She changed quickly, grabbed her valise, gave the room one last glance to make sure everything was in place, and then flew out the door with her heart in a mad gallop.
Down the stairs she leapt, two and three at a time, past the row of metal mailboxes, and then through the entrance door into the open street. She had never felt more alive. Her whole being blazed with excitement. She practically ran to the end of the block, but when she arrived, her feet stilled. There wasn’t a soul near the pastry shop — only a few pigeons pecking crumbs from the sidewalk, scattering off at the sound of her steps.
Nervously, she checked her watch. She was on time. Not a minute late, as Victor had insisted. She let her suitcase drop onto the landing and leaned against the wall. Had she misunderstood the place? The time? She was sure she had to be there at seven o’clock sharp.
Another twenty minutes passed. No sign of him. Then an unwelcome thought slammed into her: What if he had changed his mind? She couldn’t bring herself to consider it, yet as the minutes ticked by, it seemed more and more like the only possibility. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at the empty street, sitting there breathing in and out, trying to calm herself. But her mind kept reeling. How long could she wait? What would she tell her parents if he didn’t come after all and she had to go back inside? That she had spent the better part of the year lying to them? That she had been naive enough to fall for a man nearly twice her age, someone in whom they had once placed their trust and affection?
Then, almost as if in a stupor, she heard an engine at the end of the block, and Victor’s car came into view. She stood and inched toward the edge of the sidewalk. Everything was too stark, too jarring — no longer romantic in the full light of morning.
“Hello, Talia, I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, getting out of the car and coming around to take her suitcase. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Well, a bit, but not long,” she lied, forcing a smile. More lies, more covers. But she did not want him to know how mere seconds earlier she had been certain she would never see him again.
“Hello,” he repeated, and, holding open the passenger door, he planted a hasty kiss on her lips. With a further drop of her heart, she noticed how disheveled he looked. Days must have passed since he last shaved, and his eyes were bleary, with dark circles beneath them. It was the first time she had seen him out in public with his hair not perfectly glossed.
“I’m ready,” she said, glancing at him uncertainly, feeling a little short of breath. She sank into the tan leather seat and slid off her scarf. Victor jumped in beside her.
“Late, darling. Need to get going,” he muttered, checking his watch and popping the shift into gear.
Over cobblestone streets and around sharp corners, the car sped away. It began to drizzle, and he turned on the windshield wipers. For a while, there was nothing but the scrape of rubber over glass, back and forth, back and forth, smearing summer dust in a semicircle. Natalia’s head throbbed painfully.
He still had not spoken a single word by the time the maze of intersecting boulevards, with their hurried pedestrians and clattering streetcars, began to thin out. Soon the side streets turned into wide thoroughfares lined with concrete tenement blocks stretching interminably under the hazy morning sky. And then those disappeared too, and they were traveling on a smaller two-lane highway cutting through a vast open field, passing nothing for kilometers but an oil refinery and a factory that manufactured automobile parts for export. All the while, Victor’s eyes remained fixed ahead, both hands gripping the wheel.
“Victor, is something the matter?” Natalia heard herself saying at last, unable to contain her anxiety any longer.
He gave her a sideways glance, not answering, not smiling, but his hand reached across and grabbed hers unexpectedly. He squeezed it so tightly that she almost let out a cry. It was meant as a sign of affection, she was sure of that, but it only made her more nervous. She went back to staring out the window, fighting back tears — tears that she was afraid would propel them into an unwanted exchange. He did not have to say much, after all. The truth hung between them, requiring no useless utterances. Surely, if he opened his mouth, he’d say that he loved her still but that this was their good-bye. Their last time together. Perhaps he’d even change his mind and turn the car around, head back to the city. It was best, she decided, if she kept silent about her misgivings until they got to the sea. It gave her time to think, which she needed desperately — time to figure out what to say to him once they got there, how to convince him that she’d try harder, make more time for him, do whatever on earth it was that he wanted.
A plane roared overhead, slicing through the grayish overcast skies, pulling her like a magnet out of her daze. She leaned forward, looking up through the windshield, and caught a glimpse of it as it passed over, leaving behind a trail of exhaust. It reminded her of the Luftwaffe fighters during the war, when they flew so close over the rooftops that she could make out the SS insignia on the underside of the wings. Another plane passed, flying even lower, closer to the highway. Several minutes later, a third one.
A few kilometers farther on, they came to a crossing. As the car slowed and came to a stop, she thought it was strange that there was a traffic light out here in the middle of nowhere. By now, there should have been nothing but green pastures and patches of pine trees, the salty scent of the sea piercing the air.
She turned quite suddenly, her whole being shifting toward him. “Victor, are we on the right road?”
Again, no answer. She glanced behind, trying to make out the highway sign they had just passed, but it was too far back. The light changed, and Victor stepped on the gas, moving through the intersection — but instead of gaining speed, he veered the car to the side of the road. In the distance, the outline of a concrete building shimmered against the skyline. She did not know what it was. The adrenaline was pumping through her so fast that she felt faint.
“Talia, there is something I have to tell you.”
His words seeped through her like water. *Here we go, then*, she thought. She observed her own hands as if they belonged to someone else, the way they balled into fists, trembling. Her throat was closing around her breath.
“We are not going to the Black Sea,” he said.
“No.” It fell from her mouth like a stone. “So where, then?”
“We’re headed to the airport. I’m taking you to the airport.”
Before she could say anything more, he reached across her lap and tugged open the glove compartment. From it he extracted a brown envelope. After opening the flap, he pulled out a small green booklet, which he held out to her. Natalia stared at it but didn’t take it.
“Do you know what this is? This is your passport. I’m taking you to the airport. You are leaving the country. Today.”
It did not register right away. Whatever he had said to her did not sink in, for her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking about their last afternoon together, when he’d begged her to come along with him as if the world might break apart if she refused. As if his very existence hung on her saying yes. But now he was saying these terrible, incomprehensible words — that he was taking her to the airport — and she was whiplashed back into the moment. She stared at him, at the thing in his hand, and she burst into laughter. Uncontrollable, hysterical, as if she had lost hold of her senses. Was this some kind of cruel joke? Was this how he was planning to get rid of her? She was laughing still when he reached his arm out over her shoulders, clamping them firmly.
“Stop it, Talia. Breathe.”
“Why are you doing this?” she croaked, gurgling her words.
“Talia, this isn’t a game. I am not trying to deceive you. This is your passport. This, here, is a plane ticket. You’re going to the United States, to New York City.”
“It’s not possible,” she said, because she knew that it couldn’t be. No one left from behind the Iron Curtain. No one other than state officials, the president and his trusted aides, the highest members of the Security Police. And a ticket to America would have cost a fortune. Even Victor, with all his military connections and his wife’s wealth, couldn’t have pulled this off.
“Your plane leaves in two hours,” he insisted. “There will be a three-hour stop in Munich. That’s where you will board the Pan Am flight that will take you across the ocean. To New York City.”
She looked at the green booklet that he placed in her lap. So slowly that her hands were barely moving, she picked it up and opened it. There was her picture, a recent one, her name, address, nationality, date of birth. On the next page, there was a small stamp in the middle of the page. It was an entry visa from the United States embassy.
“I don’t understand, Victor. I don’t understand any of this. If you don’t want to be with me, if you don’t want to see me any longer, you could just say so. There’s no need for this, for this elaborate . . .” She paused, bile rising in her throat. She felt like she was going to retch.
“This is not my doing, Talia. I’m just helping you get on that plane.”
Something snapped inside her, hard, like a brittle branch. “This is insane!” she screamed. “I am not going to hear another word of this!”
The door handle stuck, and she jerked it forcefully to get it to open. Then she was out of the car. If her legs were not shaking so badly, she would have run. But all she managed to do was stumble a few feet, reel against the direction of traffic. She knew he would come after her; it seemed the only constant. She was always running, and he was always catching her, bending her to his will.
“Talia, stop.”
“Let go of me!” she spat, trying to free herself from his grasp. “Let go of me now, you bastard! Go back to your Russian wife and your despicable job! I should have never looked in your direction! I despise myself for spending one moment with you!”
On his face, as he began pulling her back toward the car, she saw no emotion — only a trace of something hard, unyielding. Somewhere along the highway, he had become someone else. Someone cold, detached, vacant. He had become a machine, a robot executing a task. It was more out of terror than anger that she raised her free hand and slapped him. It was enough to make him halt, but he did not release her. She slapped him again, harder this time. This time, he did not flinch, for he was ready for it.
“Talia, look at me!”
There was nothing left in her. There was no trace of strength or anger. There wasn’t anything in her at all, as he shook her shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes — those beautiful eyes that she had adored for almost her entire life, which now felt like daggers in her heart.
“You are getting on that plane today,” he said sternly, as if he was issuing a command. “Do you know how many people would risk their lives for this chance? Have you not told me how you were tired of hating, you were tired of living this life? This is it, Talia. This is your only chance to have a different life, one that is worthy of you.”
“What about my parents, Victor?” she cried, unable to stop shaking. “How can you think that I would ever leave them? How could I leave my father when he is so weak and lost these days, my mother who needs me now more than ever? How could you think I would ever abandon them?”
He let go of her. His hands fell to his sides. Gently now, evenly, he said, “They know, Talia. Your parents know. Your mother made me promise that I would get you on that plane.”
It felt like a blow to her stomach. The bones in her legs seemed to have melted, and she had to grab on to the edge of the car door so she wouldn’t sink to the ground. When had Victor had a chance to speak to them? Before this morning, he did not even know where they lived. He had not seen them in a decade. They had known nothing of her relationship with him. No, it didn’t make sense. He was lying to her.
Raising her cold, hard eyes to him, she said, “So what about us? You came after me with such determination, and this is how you want to finish it?”
“There is no us, Talia. There can never be *us*. We’ve already had the best that we could hope for.”
There it was at last — the truth, unvarnished and brutal. The truth she’d always sought in his eyes and never seemed to find. So she had been right after all. Her instinct had been right. He had never loved her, and he didn’t care how much he was hurting her now. He had played with her like a toy, a trinket, and she had let him. It was too much to absorb, and she dissolved in a torrent of sobs. Not bothering to cover her face, not caring how she looked in his eyes, she sank to the ground and wept openly while he watched.
After a while, he came and crouched down next to her, leaned his head against the car door.
“Think about it, Talia,” he said when there were no tears left, when all that remained of her despair were dry, quivering gasps. “Think about the possibilities. This is the only way that you could help your parents, truly help them. You can send them money when you get a job. Perhaps they can join you later. I could try to help with that, you know. They are old now, they are no threat to the state. Either way, you can have a life, a future in which you don’t have to hide and look over your shoulder at every turn. That’s all they ever wanted for you. Do not disappoint them.”
He was right, of course. Whatever Victor had done to get her the passport, however he had paid for the ticket, he was right about that much. There was no future for her here. Other than with him. And he did not belong to her — never had. He had made that very clear.
“Will you go? Talia?” It was odd, the way his voice fractured when he said her name. It sounded like he was saying it for the last time. “Will you let me take you to the airport? There isn’t much time left.”
She wiped her eyes and straightened up, gazing off into the distance. She felt void, tampered with, hollowed from the inside out. This was all too much; it was happening too fast. Her senses were disabled, and she knew that she couldn’t trust them.
“There will be the next plane. I need more time. To think.”
“This is the only plane, my love. This is the only plane if a hundred were to follow.”
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Victor’s hands were gripping the steering wheel, and he was looking ahead, straight ahead, as they sped down the side road that intersected the main highway. Next to him, she sat with her knees drawn up, her forehead resting against them. She was no longer crying, she just sat there shivering despite the heat and humidity, which even at this early hour were unbearable.
There was an awful smell coming from outside, something like fertilizer and gasoline intermingled. It was the only thing on which she could pin a sense of reality — persistent enough to let her know she was not trapped inside a dream. Still, she had not given up hope that any moment she might awaken and breathe out with relief, realizing that she was in her bed. That her parents were in the next room, still asleep. Her thoughts would drift to Victor then, as they did every morning while her lids still fluttered with sleep. She would see a different face from the one before her. A different set of eyes from the ones looking at her now.
As he spoke, his voice calm but austere, she became aware that it was the last time they would be like this, sitting together side by side. He was saying something about what she should do once she got to New York City, where she needed to go. There was someone she needed to see the moment she landed. He pronounced a name, an English-sounding name that she had never heard before.
“How do you do it?” she said, interrupting him. “How do you turn yourself off like this, like a light switch?” It wasn’t meant as an insult; she really wanted to know. She wanted to know so that she might attempt it herself.
“Talia, let’s not say anything. I beg you, let’s not spoil our last moments together.”
She laughed, a hollow, bitter laugh. “Our last moments together? What do they mean to you, Victor? Why should they matter at all?”
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**Reader’s Impressions & Star Rating:**
Oh, my heart. This chapter is a devastating masterpiece of tension and emotion. Watching Natalia go from breathless excitement to shattered disbelief in the space of a single car ride is absolutely gut-wrenching. The moment Victor says, “There is no us, Talia” — it lands like a punch to the chest. You feel her rage, her grief, her desperate need to hold on to something, and then her slow, hollow surrender. The way he transforms from lover to cold executor of a plan is chilling. And yet there’s that one fractured moment when her name catches in his throat, and you wonder… was there ever any love in him at all? This chapter left me breathless, aching, and desperate to know what happens next.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Rating: 4.9 / 5 Stars
**Next Chapter Prediction:**
Natalia is clearly on the verge of being pushed onto that plane, but nothing about her journey will be simple. I predict the next chapter will show her at the airport — face to face with the terrifying reality of leaving everything behind. She will likely struggle with the final decision, possibly searching for a way to stay, to see Victor one last time, or to find proof that her parents truly agreed to this. But once she boards that plane, a new world will open before her — and with it, the mystery of the English-sounding name Victor gave her will begin to unravel. Who is waiting for her in New York? And what secrets about Victor’s true identity and purpose will she uncover there?
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