Chapter 4

Odell walked up to his mum, his confident stride drawing attention from everyone in the room, mine most of all. When I turned to look at him, it felt as though time slowed to a crawl.

He was taller than I remembered. His broad shoulders and strong frame carried a quiet, effortless strength. His dark skin gleamed under the airport’s fluorescent lights, smooth and radiant, unchanged yet somehow more striking. His hair was neatly plaited, the intricate braids framing his sharp, sculpted face perfectly. His jawline was more defined now, giving him a mature, commanding presence.

Yet his eyes, those deep, warm brown eyes, still held that familiar spark, the one that had always made me feel safe.

He looked so good.

Better than I had imagined during all the years we’d been apart.

Seeing him in person, though, unlocked emotions I wasn’t ready for. I froze. My heart raced, pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of my chest. Joy, nervousness, anger, longing, everything rose inside me at once, overwhelming and impossible to separate.

I wanted to run to him. I wanted to speak, to demand answers to the questions that had haunted me for years. But instead, I stood there, silent, watching him approach like a figure pulled straight from a dream.

Odell’s mum turned to me with a knowing smile.

“Here is your travel partner,” she said lightly.

Odell looked at me then.

Our eyes met for the first time in years, and in that instant, the airport disappeared, the noise, the people, the movement. It was just me and him, standing face to face, weighed down by everything left unsaid.

His gaze moved slowly over me, from head to toe, his expression unreadable. I felt small and exposed under his scrutiny.

Then, without saying a word to me, he turned to his mum.

“I’m here. Can we go now?”

The indifference in his voice stung.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and followed them toward the ticket counter, my hands trembling slightly as we checked our tickets, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and dread.

When we boarded the plane, my breath caught.

It was first class.

Warm golden light spilled over the cabin, sleek and cinematic. Wide leather seats gleamed under the soft glow, with so much legroom it felt unreal. Everything looked polished, untouched, expensive.

I had never even been on a plane before, talk less of first class. I felt completely out of place and impossibly lucky all at once. The air smelled rich and clean, maybe lavender or sandalwood, something indulgent.

Odell led us to our seats.

Side by side.

His mum took the row behind us.

I sank into the seat and nearly laughed. It cradled me instantly. Buttons everywhere, recline, footrest, massage. A folded blanket waited on the armrest. The screen in front of me flashed a quiet Welcome.

I hesitated, then brushed my fingers over the leather.

Smooth. Cool.

Yeah. This was real.

A flight attendant approached, impeccably dressed, her voice gentle and polished.

“Would you like champagne, juice, or sparkling water?”

I glanced at Odell. Without looking at me, he casually requested sparkling water, as though this kind of service was completely normal to him. Still dazed by everything around me, I asked for juice, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.

As the attendant walked away, my emotions twisted into a knot.

Part of me felt hopeful, this was the first real step toward my dreams. But the other part of me, the part that had waited years to see him again, couldn’t ignore how distant he was.

He hadn’t said a single word to me.

I stole a glance at him. He looked relaxed, leaned back in his seat, his sharp profile outlined as he gazed out the window. I wondered what he was thinking. Did he feel anything seeing me again? Did he remember what we used to be?

The silence between us grew heavier with every passing moment.

I took a breath, gathering the courage to speak. After all, this was Odell, my Odell. The boy who had once been my best friend, my everything.

“Odell…” I began, my voice trembling.

He didn’t respond right away. He turned his head slowly and looked at me. For a split second, I thought he might say something. My heart skipped a beat.

Then he looked away.

He picked up his headphones, slipped them over his ears, adjusted his seat until it reclined almost fully, and closed his eyes, as if I wasn’t even there.

The gesture stunned me.

It wasn’t just the silence. It was the deliberate way he shut me out. Like I was a stranger. Worse... like I didn’t matter.

My stomach churned, a lump rising painfully in my throat. Heat flooded my cheeks as embarrassment and hurt washed over me.

I turned toward the window, blinking back tears.

He doesn’t care anymore.

He’s forgotten me.

I mean nothing to him now.

I bit my lip, determined not to cry. Not here. Not now. But the pain was suffocating. The memories I’d clung to for years suddenly felt like fragile illusions, fading right before my eyes.

At some point, a flight attendant approached us again.

She was stunning, early twenties, flawless pale skin, bright blonde hair pulled into a neat bun. Her uniform fit her perfectly, and she carried herself with effortless confidence.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said sweetly, leaning slightly toward Odell, barely acknowledging me. “Can I get you anything?”

Odell pulled off one headphone and looked up at her.

For the first time since I’d seen him, he smiled.

It was dazzling. The kind of smile that could soften hearts and light up a room. Dimples appeared on his cheeks, making him look effortlessly charming.

“No, I’m good, thank you,” he replied, his tone playful.

The attendant giggled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Alright, let me know if you change your mind,” she said before walking away, her cheeks faintly flushed.

I stared, feeling like someone had poured cold water over me.

He could smile.

He could flirt.

Just not with me.

The smile I had dreamed about for years—the one that used to feel like it belonged only to me—now felt like something he gave freely to strangers.

My chest tightened painfully.

Was this who he had become? A flirt? A playboy? Had I ever truly known him, or had I been holding onto a fantasy all along?

The rest of the flight passed in a blur.

As we stepped off the plane, I wondered if coming here had been a mistake.