In the hushed haze of a businessclass cabin, a thin thread of tension fluttered like a moths wing. All eyes, halfcurtained and unfocused, flicked toward the frail old woman as soon as she eased herself into her seat. At the very end of the flight the captain would later turn his attention to her.
Ethel, clutching the armrests with trembling hands, sank into the chair. In an instant a sharp quarrel ignited.
I refuse to sit beside that lady! boomed a man in his forties, his gaze fixed on the modestness of her dress as he addressed the stewardess. His name was Victor Stone, and he wore his superiority like a coat of armour.
Excuse me, sir, the passenger holds a ticket for that seat. We cannot move her, the stewardess replied, her voice steady even as Victors stare bored into Ethels.
These seats are far too pricey for people like her, he snapped, turning his head as if searching for an ally among the strangers.
Ethel stayed mute, her chest tightening. She wore her finest dressplain, neat, the only thing suitable for such a momentous occasion. A few passengers exchanged glances, some nodding in Victors favour.
At last the old woman raised a trembling hand and whispered, Its all right If theres a place in economy Ill go. Ive saved for this flight my whole life and I dont wish to trouble anyone.
Ethel was eightyfive, and this was her maiden voyage. The miles of corridors, the bustling terminals, the endless waiting had all felt like a maze she needed an airport attendant to guide her through so she would not lose her way. Now, with only a handful of hours left before her longcherished dream, she faced humiliation.
The stewardess, firm as a lighthouse, said, Im sorry, dear, but you paid for this ticket and you have every right to be here. No one may strip that from you. She fixed Victor with a cold stare. If you do not cease, I will summon security.
Victor muttered something under his breath and fell silent. The aircraft rose into the clouds, and in her nervous flurry Ethel dropped her handbag. Without a word, Victor knelt, gathered the scattered items, and handed the bag back. His eyes caught a glint on the strapa pendant with a stone the colour of fresh blood.
A beautiful piece, he murmured. Looks like a ruby. I dabble a little in oldworld curios. That would fetch a fair sum.
Ethel smiled faintly. I have no idea its worth. My father gave it to my mother before he went off to war and never returned. When I turned ten, my mother handed it to me.
She opened the locket; two faded photographs lay inside. One showed a young couple, the other a beaming little boy.
These were my parents, she said, voice soft as a sigh. And that child is my son.
Victors brow furrowed. Youre flying to meet him?
No, Ethel lowered her gaze. I placed him in a childrens home when he was just an infant. I had no husband, no work, nothing to give a child. I only recently traced him through a DNA test and wrote to him. He answered that he did not want to know. Today is his birthday. I only wanted to be near him, even for a minute.
Victors mouth opened, then closed. Then why this flight?
A weak smile trembled on the old womans lips, a flicker of sorrow caught in her eyes. He is the commander of this flight. This is the only way I can be close to him, even if only with a glance.
Victor stared at the floor, shame spreading through him like ink. The stewardess, having heard everything, slipped quietly toward the cockpit.
A few minutes later the captains voice floated over the intercom, mellow and oddly distant. Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon begin our descent into Heathrow. Before we land, I wish to address a special lady aboard. Mother please stay after we touch down. I need to see you.
Ethel froze, tears tracing silent rivers down her cheeks. The cabin held its breath; then a soft murmur of applause rose, mingled with smiles trembling on the edge of tears.
When the plane finally skidded to a halt, the commander broke protocol, burst from the cockpit, andeyes raw with emotionran to Ethel. He wrapped his arms around her as if trying to gather the years that had slipped away. Thank you, Mother, for everything you have given me, he whispered, pulling her close.
Ethel sobbed into his chest. There is nothing left to forgive. I have always loved you
Victor stood at the side, head bowed, the weight of his arrogance crushing him. He finally understood that beneath the worn clothes and the lines of age lay a story of sacrifice and boundless love.
The flight was more than a journey through clouds; it was a meeting of two hearts, torn apart by time yet reunited in a fleeting, dreamtouched moment.
