Chapter 53

The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when Jennie’s phone buzzed incessantly on the bedside table. Groggy and still half-dreaming, she fumbled for it, expecting the usual barrage of work emails or group chat notifications. Instead, the screen was plastered with flashing headlines from every news app she had:

“Tragedy Strikes: Passenger Plane Crashes in Pacific—All On Board Feared Lost”

Jennie’s heart froze. Her chest tightened. The room seemed to tilt, the walls squeezing in on her. She blinked, hoping, praying, that her vision was deceiving her.

“Lisa…?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The name fell from her lips like a prayer, desperate, fragile. And then reality hit like a hammer. Lisa, her Lisa, had flown out that morning for her business trip—or at least, she thought she had.

Jennie bolted upright, the sheets falling off her in a tangle as panic clawed up her throat. Her mind raced faster than her heart, looping endlessly: Lisa… on that plane… maybe… gone.

The tears came fast, unbidden. Hot, stinging, uncontrollable. Jennie didn’t stop to put on shoes or even grab her coat. She flung open the door and ran, hair tangled, slippers slapping against the hardwood floors, phone clutched like a lifeline.

By the time she reached the airport, Jennie had become a storm. The few early-morning travelers gawked as she practically barreled through the automatic doors, mascara-streaked cheeks and all. Her sobs echoed down the cavernous terminal.

“Has anyone—! Has anyone seen a flight from… from L.A.!?” she shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of hysteria. A poor airline attendant froze mid-step, not sure if this woman was performing or truly in despair.

People started staring. Some whispered. Some stepped aside. Jennie didn’t care. She scanned every departure screen, her eyes wild, frantic, burning for any sign of Lisa. She almost didn’t notice the small child clutching their mother’s hand as she ran by, or the barista in mid-pour at the coffee shop.

“LISA!” she cried, throwing herself against the wall of a news display that had now switched to coverage of the crash. A video clip played: debris floating on water, rescue helicopters circling, chaos on the beach. Jennie doubled over, crying so hard she could barely breathe. “No! No! LISA!”

Her dramatic sobs pulled the attention of everyone nearby, and for a moment, the entire terminal seemed to stop. A flight attendant cautiously approached, hands raised in a gesture of peace.

“Ma’am… are you okay?”

“I—I need to find my wife!” Jennie wailed, clutching the phone like a talisman. “She was supposed to be on this flight! That plane… that plane—” Her words dissolved into hysterical hiccups.

The attendant’s brow furrowed. “Which flight was she on?”

Jennie typed Lisa’s name with shaking fingers. She pressed “enter” and stared at the screen, waiting for confirmation of her worst nightmare.

…and nothing came up.

Confused, the attendant tilted their head. “Uh… ma’am, this flight isn’t until next week.”

Jennie froze. Something in her chest loosened, replaced by a strange, jittery disbelief. “Next… week?” Her voice was a whisper now, fragile and broken.

“Yes,” the attendant said gently, pointing at the phone. “You… you might have seen a news alert about another flight, but your wife isn’t on it. She’s safe.”

Jennie’s knees buckled, and she sank to the floor of the terminal, burying her face in her hands. How—how could she have panicked like this? How could she have almost—oh God, she almost made a scene over nothing?

Then, a familiar voice cut through her shame and tears, calm but teasing, like nothing had ever happened:

“Jennie… why are you crying on the airport floor?”

Jennie looked up, and there she was—Lisa. Hair a little messy from her morning walk, cheeks flushed from exercise, and a smile that seemed designed solely to make Jennie’s heart stop.

“LISA?!” Jennie shrieked, throwing herself forward. She clutched Lisa like she’d never let go, sobbing all over her shoulder, arms wrapped tight around her waist. “I thought—you were gone! The news! I—I—”

Lisa laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from Jennie’s tear-streaked face. “Jennie… calm down. I didn’t even leave the city. I just went for a long walk this morning. Thought I’d enjoy the sunrise before my flight next week.”

Jennie froze, then looked at Lisa’s serene, perfectly alive face. “Wait… you’re—?”

“Exactly where I should be,” Lisa said, smirking. “Safe. With you. Not in some dramatic plane crash.”

Jennie blinked, hiccupping, then laughed nervously through more tears. “You… you’re alive. You’re really alive…” She buried her face against Lisa again, half laughing, half sobbing. “I—I almost—oh my God, I almost lost my mind!”

Lisa wrapped her arms around Jennie, kissing the top of her head. “You’re dramatic,” she said softly, “but I love it. Even if you almost scared half the terminal to death.”

Jennie’s face broke into a chaotic, relieved grin. “I—okay, I might have slightly overreacted.”

“Slightly?” Lisa echoed, chuckling as she led Jennie toward a nearby bench. “Jennie, you’re a walking soap opera. But hey… at least now I know exactly how much you love me.”

Jennie collapsed onto the bench, still clutching Lisa like a lifeline. “I—I don’t ever want to do that again,” she whispered.

Lisa kissed her forehead. “Promise?”

Jennie nodded fiercely, tears of relief sliding down her cheeks. “Promise. But… I can’t guarantee I won’t cry a little if you actually leave.”

Lisa laughed, threading her fingers through Jennie’s. “Then I guess I’ll just have to come back early from my flight next week… just to make sure you survive.”

Jennie laughed through more tears, shaking her head in disbelief at how chaotic and dramatic her morning had been. “You… you’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” Lisa said, smirking. Jennie just leaned against her, holding on like the world had just reset itself—and for once, she was perfectly okay with being utterly, gloriously dramatic.