Page 239 of The Harbinger

“And your phone?”

“Of course. Isn’t this usually the mom’s job?”

He chuckled, his hand ruffling his salt-and-pepper hair. “I suppose it is.”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll call you as soon as I land.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise. Goodbye, Dad.”

He shut the door and waved me away as the taxi drove down the road, then turned right, blocking him from our view.

As the taxi drove me to the airport, my mind raced with conflicting thoughts and emotions. I couldn’t shake off the feeling of doubt and fear that gnawed at me. What if Sacha didn’t want me? What if I made a huge mistake and misread our ‘relationship’? What if he didn’t love me back the way I’d realized I loved him?

The thought of being rejected by Sacha made me nauseous, and I couldn’t help but feel foolish for making such an effort to see him without knowing how he felt. I tried to convince myself that I was being paranoid and that everything would be fine, but my heart was heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

As I walked through security, my heart raced faster and faster. I glanced around nervously, wondering what was going to happen next. Would Sacha turn me away? What if he had found someone else and had already moved on from me? I tried to shake the thoughts from my head, but they kept creeping back in.

Despite my doubts, I couldn’t ignore my strong feelings for Sacha. I knew I had to take this chance and see where it would lead, no matter how scary it felt.

I shifted in my seat, my heart racing as an announcement echoed through the terminal calling my name. With a shaky hand, I gathered my belongings and made my way to the desk, the sound of my footsteps echoing in my ears.

“Mia Foster here,” I identified myself, my mind ruminating with curiosity. “Is there an issue?”

“No, ma’am. The first-class passengers are now boarding. Please follow me,” the attendant responded, beckoning me to follow her.

First class? “Excuse me. There must be a mistake.”

“No mistake, ma’am,” she retorted, her wrist brandishing an alluring black tattoo for the world to see. Was this Sacha’s doing? Did he know I was coming?

I leaned in, lowering my voice as Laura led me to my luxurious cubicle, complete with a private TV, cup holders, and all the comforts of home. “Did Sacha arrange this?” My heart pounded in my chest.

Laura shook her head, her name tag glinting in the overhead light. “We all know who you are, Mia,” she said with a knowing smile. “It’s an honor to have you on board today.”

As I settled into my seat, Laura removed the plush blanket and soft pajamas from their packaging, her eyes flickering with a hint of mystery. “If there’s anything you need,” she whispered, “don’t hesitate to ask. Our staff is here to serve.”

My heart pounded as I looked around, scanning for any signs of danger. “How...” I choked out, my throat dry as a desert. “How do you know who I am?”

Her eyes flicked over to me, cool and collected. “Your name is written in our books.”

Laura disappeared just as quickly as she had appeared, leaving me with more questions than answers. But before I could dwell on it any longer, another attendant arrived, her voice pleasant but distant. “Can I get you something to drink before we take off?”

Her wrists were hidden under a long-sleeved white button-down, but if I were to bet, she’d bear the same tattoos as Laura.

“Just water, thanks.” I took the blanket from her and spread it over my lap before buckling up as she left to fetch the bottle. No sooner had I settled, she returned.

“Anything else?”

I shook my head and accepted the water and a menu from her.

“Feel free to glance at the menu and let us know what you’d like.”

As people filed into the plane, not a single soul gave me a second look. And soon enough, we were soaring over the Pacific.

I gobbled up theukha, the same hearty stew Sacha had fed me when we first flew to Moscow. Memories of that trip flooded my mind as I drifted off, my headphones piping in Russian lessons.

My tongue stumbled over the language, but my ear had a sharp edge. I absorbed more than I let on, my spelling better than my speaking. But I’d reached my goal, and now I could return, make my declaration, and beg him to take me back.

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