That frightened me more than the crying.
Something inside me had gone very still.
I stayed seated until most of the passengers had stood. Then I rose with the crowd and watched 15C from the corner of my eye.
She moved slowly, one hand on her bump as she stepped into the aisle.
I followed at a distance through the jet bridge and into the terminal.
She didn’t head toward baggage claim.
She went toward the crew corridor.
Of course she did.
I kept walking.
A pilot and two flight attendants were gathered near the crew entrance, talking and laughing in that relieved, post-flight way crews do when the hard part is over.
Daniel emerged from a side door, cap in hand, scanning the hall.
Then he saw her.
His whole face changed.
He crossed the distance in three quick steps, put one hand gently on her waist, and kissed her on the mouth.
It was not a friendly kiss. It was a deep and practiced one.
It looked tender, familiar, and certain.
That was the moment everything ended.
The announcement, the pregnancy, and the seat number were sealed by the kiss.
Because until then, some ruined corner of me had still been bargaining with reality.
