The seatbelt signs blaze, the tray tables snap down, and I grip the armrest, the photos still clenched in my fist.
Adrian’s eyes meet mine, desperate and hollow, as the plane tilts dramatically, leaving our confrontation hanging in the violent sway of the sky.
Claire’s Offer in the Quiet Terminal
I slipped through the bustling corridor, heart hammering against my ribs.
The emergency stop had emptied the gate area, leaving only a few stranded souls nursing coffee.
My eyes scanned for a place to breathe, and I found a small alcove beside a broken vending machine.
There, a woman in a crisp charcoal suit stood, her hair pulled back into a tight knot.
She turned before I could even approach, a faint smile touching her lips.
“Maya?” she asked, as if she’d been expecting me all along.
I nodded, the name echoing in my mind.
“I’m Claire,” she said, extending a slim leather folder.
