Still nothing. No message. No apology. No “I fucked up.” Just the last thing Dominic sent hours ago. He misses me. I keep looking at it, like if I stare long enough, the words might change into something else.
Next to me, the man clears his throat lightly. “Rough night?” he asks.
His voice is low, careful. Not intrusive. Just curious. I don’t look at him right away.
“Red-eye flights usually are,” I say.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the corner of his mouth lift slightly. “That’s not what I meant.” He says.
I finally glance over. He’s unfairly composed for someone who hasn’t slept. He has the kind of face that probably makes people trust him faster than they should.
“Do you always analyze strangers on airplanes?” I ask.
“Only the ones who keep catching my attention.” He says. There’s no judgment in his voice. If anything, he sounds amused. “Let me guess,” he continues, leaning back in his seat. “Work trip you didn’t want to take.”
“Close enough.”
“Breakup?”
I turn my head slowly. “You’re very confident.”
He shrugs, that calm half-smile returning. “Educated guess.”
“Well,” I say, folding my arms lightly, “your guess is wrong.”
It isn’t. But he doesn’t need to know that. For a moment neither of us speaks. The quiet hum of the engines fills the space between us. For hours we sit in silence. Then, just before the wheels touch the ground, the pilot’s voice crackles overhead.
“We are now landing. Please fasten your seatbelts. Weather is gloomy today with a possible light chance of rain.”
Of course it is. Gray skies. Low clouds. A city welcoming me with a sigh. I didn’t sleep on the red-eye. Not even for a minute. Every time my eyes closed, it replayed.
His hands on her waist. Her back arching. His voice, low, familiar. Hers, replacing mine.
And the ring.
God.
He didn’t even take it off. The gold metal caught the light while he touched her. If you’re going to betray someone, at least remove the symbol first. That feels like basic decency. Apparently, it isn’t.
The plane hits the runway with a hard jolt. My stomach drops, but it’s been dropping for five hours straight. Turbulence feels honest compared to marriage. The cabin lights snap back on. Too bright and unforgiving. I grab my bag and step into the aisle. My body feels heavy, like it never actually landed. When I reach the front of the plane, he’s there.
White sleeves still rolled neatly to his forearms. Navy trousers. Calm. Awake in a way I’m not. I look at him. Really look at him this time.
“Uhmn… have a good night,” he says.
I give him a small smile. No words come out. It’s 7 a.m., but good night feels more accurate. I don’t correct him. Because if I speak, I might acknowledge that he was kind. That he offered to switch seats. That he noticed I was somewhere I didn’t belong.
And I’m not ready for kindness from men. By the time I make it through the terminal and down the escalator, everything feels distant.
Suitcases roll. Announcements echo. People reunite in quiet hugs. I push through the sliding glass doors and step outside. The air is dampand metallic. Taxis idle in crooked lines. The city hums low and indifferent.
I slide into the back of an Uber and watch Manhattan smear past the window. Buildings rise through the mist like they’re trying not to be noticed. Everything looks dull and wet, like everything was awake, but nothing was alive.
We pull up to Aman New York Hotel. The entrance is understated and severe. Dark stone. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Inside, the lobby is all polished marble and muted tones. High ceilings. A chandelier suspended overhead like it’s been carefully measured for impact.
Nothing is accidental. Nothing is loud. If Clara were here, she’d whisper that it probably has its own insurance policy. I stand there with my carry-on, aware of how small I feel inside a space designed for people who never doubt where they belong.
I work as a secretary at a financial firm. I file paperwork. I answer phones. I know everyone’s coffee order down to the exact level of dairy intolerance. My most reliable talent is finding missing staplers during mild office emergencies. And somehow, my boss Andrew insisted I come to headquarters instead of Ruby the intern.
