Page 172 of Cara
“It’s okay,” he reassures me, even though his heart must be crashing too. Xavier strokes my back in slow, soothing circles, patiently waiting for the man to return to us.
“We should turn around. Go back,” I whisper.
Remaining still and composed for both our sakes, Xavier softly hums, kissing my hair. When the man returns smiling, his arm outstretched with our tickets, my stomach flips, my mouth drying up entirely while Xavier accepts the boarding passes. “Thank you.”
“Better run or you’ll miss it. That flight already boarded.”
For the first time today, Xavier’s composure slips. Before the man can complete his sentence, Xavier whirls around and bolts toward the gates, pulling me along through the expansive corridors. All pretenses vanish. Desperation is all we have left. It pushes our weary legs into sprints and keeps me running despite the pain.
If the stitches haven’t broken, it will be a miracle.
“Wait!” Xavier shouts as we barrel into the boarding area. A woman has her back turned to us and slams the door shut, a barrier between us and escape. The display blinks red, a signal that our flight is cleared for takeoff. “Wait!”
She turns to see me waving my arm, imploring her to stop.
Xavier crashes into the desk, breathless. “Please, we have to get onto this flight.”
“Sir, I can’t?—”
“Please.” His eyes have never been so desperate. “Please. I know you hear this all the time, but I mean it. Wehavetomake this flight.”
Her eyes shift between us. “The pilot will have to approve it. They might have already pulled off?—”
“Please, call.Ask them.”
With a frustrated sigh and a quick glance at her monitor, she pulls the phone from the receiver.
Please. Open the door. Let us in.
I can’t help it. Tears are brimming at the edge of my eyes, escaping. I’m frozen, unable to catch them.
“Have you pulled off yet?” She squints against the sun that obscures her view of the tarmac. “Yeah, two more.”
With the phone still pressed against her ear, she clears our boarding passes, handing them over. “You’re real lucky.”
She hasnoidea how right she is about that.
Xavier’s face is ghostly pale as he guides me up the ramp and onto the packed aircraft, our caps concealing our expressions from the curious gazes of the other passengers.
Fortunately, we find ourselves seated near the front, slipping into our spots by the window. The aisle seat beside him sits unoccupied. As the cabin dims and the atmosphere shifts to tranquil, most visors are lowered while weary travelers seize the opportunity for a nap.
During the safety checks, I keep my face down, afraid that at the last minute, we’ll be discovered. Kicked off the plane. Thrown in jail. Separated forever.
The attendant instructs someone nearby to lift their table and fasten their seatbelt. I don’t have to concern myself with that as Xavier is already clipping the buckle for me, functioning on autopilot. My hands tremble uncontrollably in my lap, limp and marked by swollen, jagged nails.
My heart is tight—excruciatingly. It’s too much to take.
The shock. The fear. The awe.
A wave of relief washes over the both of us as the flight attendant recites the safety procedures while the plane taxis down the tarmac, slowly approaching the runway. We remain firmly in our seats, eyes fixed forward, as the cabin lights dim and the pilot readies us for takeoff.
The wheels roar down the runway, the cabin buzzing with excitementas we rapidly accelerate and then suddenly lift off the ground. The world below flattens out as the plane climbs into the sky.
As we level out, the change in altitude dulls my hearing, muffling the sounds of the cabin. I gaze out the window, captivated as the sprawling city fades into the distance, unable to shake off the shock.
“Soph.” His voice is distant… distant but definitely there.
A single tear rolls down my cheek.
