AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” I reply, my tone polite but firm. “It’s not appropriate to ask strangers to switch seats, especially when we’re already seated.”
The woman’s face falls, disappointment evident in her eyes. She tries another approach. “Please, it would only be for a minute. He’s just a little boy, and this could be a memorable experience for him.”
I lean back in my seat, maintaining my position. “I understand that, but we can’t always get what we want in life. It’s essential for him to learn that early on. Besides, it’s against airline regulations to change seats without the cabin crew’s permission,” I explain patiently, hoping she’ll understand.
Her shoulders slump as if she’s been defeated. She gazes out of the window, where the evening sky begins to darken, the last traces of daylight slowly fading into night. She looks lost in thought for a moment.
After a while, she sighs and makes the little boy comfortable in his seat, adjusting his blanket and securing his seatbelt. She covers her ears with a set of noise-canceling headphones, seemingly drowning herself in music. The once bright and cheerful atmosphere between our seats has dissolved into an unspoken tension.
She’s no longer interested in engaging with me, and I return to my documents, grateful for the solitude. The soft hum of the plane’s engines and the distant chatter of other passengers fill the cabin as I immerse myself in my work, my thoughts drifting away from the previous exchange.
After about an hour of intense concentration on my tablet, I finally lift my gaze. The cabin is quieter now, the initial buzz of passengers settling down having mellowed into a steady hum of the airplane’s engines. I look around, taking in my surroundings.
There, a few rows ahead, is the woman—the flight attendant from earlier on. Her jet-black hair is wrapped in a bun and her face is layered in heavy makeup, heavy enough to assure me of not recognizing her if I ever met her elsewhere. I initially didn’t recognize her immediately till I saw her name tag which reads ‘Emily’. It’s amusing how quickly they rotate flight attendants on these international flights, but it’s irrelevant to me.
Emily approaches me with a warm smile, and despite her professional demeanor, her eyes carry a subtle hint of flirtation. “Sir, would you like to have your meal now?”
I glance at the woman and the boy beside me; they’re already having their meals. I nod and reply, “Yes, I’ll have it now, please.”
She hands me a tray of food with a friendly demeanor, and as I take it, her fingers brush mine, perhaps a bit too deliberately. She lingers for a moment longer than necessary, but I don’t give her any encouragement.
I turn back to my tray of food and start eating. It’s a quiet meal. The meal in the food tray is a compact arrangement of chicken, rice, and vegetables, neatly sectioned off in small compartments. There’s also a bottle of water and another of a fruit drink.
I glance over at the woman and the little boy. They eat with minimal conversation, speaking in hushed tones when necessary. It’s as if they’ve created their own little world within this airplane cabin, a world where I’m nothing more than an intruder.
The silence between us becomes noticeable, and it starts to weigh on me. I try to focus on my food and the work I’ll need to get back to after the meal, but something about their isolation tugs at my conscience.
I finish my meal and turn off my tablet, placing it in the net rack behind the seat in front of me. I take a moment to watch the lady and the little boy. She seems like a wonderful mother—gentle, kind-hearted, and patient. A sense of guilt washes over me as I consider that I’ve been ignoring them.
Emily, the flight attendant, approaches again. Her flirtatious mannerisms haven’t diminished, and she gives me a lingering look as she collects my tray. I try to be polite but distant. Her attention is the last thing I need right now.
The flight continues, and I find my gaze drifting back to the woman and the little boy. They’ve fallen into a cocoon of silence, seemingly unaware of my presence. The little boy, Alex, is tucked into his seat, a blanket draped over him, and his eyes closed in slumber. The lady, whose name I don’t know, wears a weary expression as she stares out the window.
I can’t help but admire her. If she is a single mother, then she must be doing her job well, handling her responsibilities with grace and care. She’s pretty, in a simple and natural way, and her gentle nature is evident even from a distance. I’ve been too absorbed in my own world, too engrossed in my work, to pay attention to them. I should have been more considerate, more welcoming.
I sigh and turn my gaze back to my tablet, knowing that I can’t undo the hours of silence that have passed between us. But perhaps, for the remainder of this journey, I can make an effort to be more present and understanding. After all, it’s the least I can do to ease the discomfort of their flight.
Even after they’ve finished eating, they remain silent, as though I’m invisible. This silence, born out of my refusal to grant a simple request, gnaws at my conscience like a persistent itch I can’t ignore. I can’t focus on my work with this guilt hanging over me, and a sense of discomfort settles in the pit of my stomach.
So, I clear my throat, the sound echoing loudly in the confined space of the plane, and call out to the woman. She turns toward me, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. Her tanned skin glows subtly under the soft cabin lights, and her brown hair frames her face in loose waves.
I gather my thoughts and offer a sincere apology. “I’m sorry for earlier. I sincerely apologize.”
Her response is a nod, and I can sense her apprehension, like a delicate fragrance in the air, lingering but not overpowering. I lean into my seat and take up my tablet to continue what I was doing. I immediately turn the tablet off, as I feel compelled to apologize again, not wanting any tension to linger between us.
As our eyes meet, I notice the subtle flecks of amber in her hazel eyes. She’s a striking woman, I realize, with an artsy look about her that’s both intriguing and inviting. Her lips curve into a hesitant smile, and I find myself drawn to her kindness, like a moth to a gentle flame.
“I mean it,” I continue, my tone earnest. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I was being insensitive.”
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine for sincerity. I can see that she’s considering whether to accept my apology or dismiss it. After a few moments, she finally concedes with a subtle nod.
I relax a bit, relieved that she’s not holding it against me. I return to my tablet briefly but soon put it aside again. Something inside me urges me to reach out, to try to bridge the gap. I call out to her once more, my voice soft but determined. “Would you mind if we start over? I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”
Amber turns to me again, her eyebrows slightly raised, waiting. I muster up the courage to continue. Her hesitation lingers, but I can see she’s open to the idea. She replies with a hint of a smile. “Sure, I’d appreciate that.”
I extend my hand toward her, a gesture of goodwill. “I’m Derrick,” I introduce myself, hoping this will be a fresh beginning.
She takes my hand, and a hint of relief washes over her face as she tells me her name. “I’m Amber.”
