The Vertical Plane

Mara Vale is a literature teacher with a secret: she’s The Velvet Abyss, an adult content creator with millions of subscribers, specializing in alien-themed erotica. Her double life stems from a traumatic childhood — a mother who shamed her, a father who frightened her, a sister who reinforced her prudish exterior. When the Veyr invade Earth, Mara survives fourteen days trapped in her dungeon before escaping. Captured and assigned as a servant in the Spire of Avarra, she secretly catalogues the Veyr language and builds community with fellow humans. Assigned to clean Prince Xyren Vossk’s quarters, she discovers a copy of Paradise Lost — and a silent conversation through folded pages becomes something neither expected. Xyren hides his own secret: secondary arms bound since childhood by a queen who called them shameful. When Mara accidentally touches a sacred Genesis Sphere, Xyren claims her through an ancient bond to save her life. Their connection deepens — physical, chemical, emotional. Mara confesses her Velvet Abyss identity. She becomes pregnant with hybrid offspring. And when the queen moves to destroy them, Xyren challenges her in single combat, using the arms he was taught to hide as weapons. He wins. The old law falls. Mara becomes Queen of the Velvet Spire. A story about desire, identity, and the bonds that transcend species

At first a joke, and now a matter of seriousness. He thought she could fall into his trap but finally find himself cut off from reality. She ressemble a mature girl, yet she isn't. No matter how strong she is and how she will hate the character of Zack, Tiara will not resist to his charm, and him too. Love gains thier hearts, no matter their differences. Romance take it path in their life with all the ignorant they possess. Toronto will be their loving paradise, happiness invade their life until reality on its own gain it's path...trying to fly made her think their love could go above all but never above lies.

In the seventh year of our secret relationship, Alex Timbers became the hero pilot the whole country was talking about. His flight had run into extreme weather. Somehow, on nerve and skill alone, he'd brought the plane down safely. I watched the livestream the whole time, crying so hard I could barely stand. Then, ten minutes later, during an on-site interview at the airport, a three-year-old boy ducked under the barricade and threw himself into Alex's arms, sobbing and calling him Dad. Right behind him came my best friend, Natalie Wilde, her eyes red. In front of the entire country, Alex pulled them both into his arms. Before I could even process it, two more familiar faces appeared on screen. My mother, Susan Healey, hugged Natalie, her voice breaking. "It's over now, Natalie. Alex made it back alive. You and the boy finally have someone to lean on." My father, Dale Healey, clapped Alex on the shoulder, beaming. "Your family of three is whole again. Nothing beats that." In that instant, every drop of blood in my body ran cold. Over the past seven years, I'd had three miscarriages because of Alex. Each time, he'd held me and sworn, eyes red, "Mary, for your reputation, I can't let you have a child out of wedlock. Once I make captain, we'll get married." I laughed until the laughter turned into tears, blurring my vision. It wasn't just Alex. My parents had been standing with them the whole time. I'd been the only one left waiting, seven years, in a place no one could see. I typed out in the livestream's comment section: [Congratulations.]

While packing Ethan's flight bag, I found a custom solo wings pin. The engraving on the back read: For Lark, to celebrate your first solo. Beneath the box sat the receipt for Skyler's flight school tuition, paid in full by Ethan, along with a photograph. In the photo, she was sitting in the pilot's seat. Ethan's gloved hand rested over hers on the control yoke. Seven years ago, I had sat in that same seat. Back then, I was one step away from my first solo flight, but Ethan talked me out of it again and again, always claiming it was "for my own good." He said flying was dangerous, that someone had to stay home and take care of things. I put down my logbook, pressed the wrinkles out of every one of his captain's uniforms, and spent seven years living by his flight schedule. Only now did I finally understand. It wasn't that he didn't want to take anyone flying. He just didn't want to take me. What made it even more absurd was that the night Skyler first flew through the clouds, I was alone in a hospital, losing our baby. I called him over a dozen times. At three in the morning, he finally called back, his voice flat and indifferent. "I just took Lark through the clouds. Next time something comes up, give me a heads-up." I put the wings pin back exactly where I found it, then pulled the crumpled ultrasound printout from the bottom of the drawer and tucked it inside the logbook that had been gathering dust for seven years. This time, I wasn't going to wait for him to look back. He convinced me to leave the pilot's seat, then turned around and put another woman in the sky. So I would leave him and take back the sky that had always been mine.

My uncle got obsessed with the Great Work, fasting and doing breathwork at home every day. After he passed out from low blood sugar, they also found a stone. He insisted it was the Philosopher's Stone, and that he was almost there. I spent three days working on him, got him to believe in science, and had the stone taken out. Once he was eating properly again, his labs came back into the normal range. Then he came across AI-generated videos about people achieving immortality in the modern world, and decided I was the one who'd ruined him. He drugged me with sleeping pills, and while I was out, he threw me off the roof. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they took him to the hospital. This time, I'm going to watch exactly how he ascends.

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.