“Go ahead. Look.”
I remembered bending for Noah’s blanket and the woman adjusting her coat. At the time, it hadn’t seemed important.
That’s when I glanced at my finger. The ring wasn’t there.
Every head near row 12 tipped down toward the woman’s seat. My face went hot. I gripped Noah a little tighter and hated myself for not being the one standing there.
The woman lifted herself just enough to show the empty seat.
“Well?” she said. “Go ahead. Look.”
The man across the aisle actually leaned over. So did the woman behind. Someone else pulled out a phone flashlight.
You put your hand in the pocket.
Nothing.
No glint, no gold, no ring. Just a crumpled napkin and a cracker crumb.
“See?” the woman said, and her mouth curled. “Maybe teach your daughter not to make things up.”
My stomach dropped. I stood halfway out of my seat before I could think.
