CHAPTER 3 — CRUISING ALTITUDE
At 30,000 feet, people reveal themselves.
It’s a truth of aviation.
They relax.
They forget.
They assume walls exist where there are none.
Ryan ordered whiskey.
Double.
Ashley barely touched her champagne.
I served them both personally.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Watching.
“You planned this?” Ryan finally hissed when I leaned in to collect empty glasses.
I tilted my head slightly.
“Planned what?”
“This,” he snapped quietly. “You being on this flight.”
I smiled.
“No, Ryan.”
A pause.
“You did.”
His face tightened.
Because he couldn’t argue with that logic.
He had chosen the flight.
Booked it.
Paid for it.
Brought her.
Brought himself.
All I did was show up where I already belonged.
Ashley finally broke.
“You’re married?” she asked him sharply.
Ryan exhaled.
“It’s complicated.”
I almost laughed.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I placed a small napkin on their tray table.
Neatly folded.
Precise.
Inside it—
nothing.
May you like
Just emptiness.
A reminder.
