The Airplane Crash That Killed John Denver

During a holiday, I returned to my hometown to visit my family. My family’s private jet was under maintenance. The newly hired housekeeper mistakenly booked an economy-class ticket. While I was boarding, I ran into my first love, Brooke Smith, and her new boyfriend, Simon Xanders. They mocked me for flying in economy class. They laughed at me for being a country bumpkin heading to Nework. I ignored them. Then, I accidentally discovered the pilot, Lucas Wallace’s secret. His wife had been cheating on him. It turned out he had been raising another man’s child for over a decade. He wanted to take the entire plane down with him. I knew how to fly a plane. I urged everyone to subdue the pilot and let me make an emergency landing. Yet they mocked and humiliated me relentlessly. Then, the plane plunged sharply toward the ground. Only then did they finally panic.

They fell in love after a plane crash, unaware that their love would be a forbidden love. Raina and Eros are plane crash survivors who were forced to spend two weeks on the island together with a Baby who also survived the crash. They fell in love, and when they were rescued and returned to their country, Rania discovered that Eros was her best friend's future husband, and she was pregnant with his child. Eros and Rania, torn between friendship and love, must fight for their love or remain apart. How will they triumph over their feelings? A love story with betrayal, vengeance, friendship, and heartbreak.

On the flight home, the plane starts shaking violently. Certain I'm about to die, I call my husband, Rhys Callahan, to say my last words. He hangs up on me, and his auto-reply flashes on the screen. "Driving. On my way to pick up Daphne." I've taken 86 flights in our five years of marriage. Every time I'm about to land, I ask him to come get me, and every time, the answer is the same. "Daphne's getting in too. I have to pick her up." He picks up Daphne Langston all 86 times. The lowest point comes during a rainstorm. I drag my suitcase through the downpour outside the terminal for two hours, unable to get a ride. When I call him, Daphne's voice comes through, laughing. "Oh, Rhys is helping me with my luggage right now. He can't come to the phone." Now the cabin fills with screaming and sobbing. The plane spirals out of control at cruising altitude, the left wing shearing away as flames light up the windows. My phone buzzes with a message from him. "Just picked Daphne up. What time do you land? I'll come get you." I stare at the screen and let out a bitter laugh. After five years, he's finally offering to pick me up. But fire swallows the plane as it plunges toward the ground. He doesn't know I'm no longer coming home.

The day I found out that my pilot husband, George, had given our wedding band to his widowed childhood sweetheart as a talisman, I changed his contact name to Captain Tanner. When I was suffering from a severe stomach bleed, George got a call from Tammy, saying that her son had woken up from his sleep, missing his late father. Without another word, George walked out on me. He promised to be there for my follow-up appointment, but he was quick to change his flight for Tammy because she was afraid of the thunderstorm while at the airport. I snapped a photo of my medical evaluation and texted, “Have a safe flight, Captain Tanner.” It was the same old reply. “Quit acting up. Tammy and her son have had it tough enough.” Later, he booked our favorite restaurant to slip the ring back onto my finger in celebration of our seventh wedding anniversary. Before we could get inside the establishment, the call from Tammy came in. “George, I’m scared. Can you pick me up? Liam said that you’re the only father he’s got…” George took one look at me and opened his mouth to explain. I handed the ring box to the server. “Please dispose of this for me.” I then turned to him. “Captain Tanner, your passengers are waiting.”

During a long holiday, my husband booked flights for a family vacation. On the way to the airport, I suddenly saw numbers appearing on everyone’s head. The numbers on my husband’s head indicated sixty years, but my parents and I had only six hours indicated on our heads. While I was puzzled over the meaning of those numbers, I noticed that the driver next to us only had six seconds indicated over his head through the car window. Five… Four… Three… Two… One. When the number turned zero, a massive truck immediately rammed into the car next to us. I saw flickers of fire, flesh and blood exploding before my eyes. People were screaming for help, but I could not hear anything. I trembled as cold sweat drenched my entire body. It was because my flight would be taking off in six hours.

On the Northwind Trail, just before sunrise, my flashlight cut across the inside of the SUV and landed on five lifeless bodies. My hands shook as I dialed 911. "Hello? I'm on Route 296, the Northwind Trail. Everyone in my car… is dead." The operator's voice was calm but quick. "Please confirm your location. Officers are on their way." My words dropped heavy and flat, like stones hitting the ground. "I'm on Route 296, about three miles east of the mountain pass. The plate number is NA318X. Five people inside the car are dead… and I'm the only one alive."