Flight: A Novel Novels & Stories

Only their footsteps fading down the hall. I reached for my phone. My pocket was empty. I froze. During the struggle, Blaze must have taken it. My phone. My only way to reach Dad. My only chance of arranging a private flight. Gone. The closet smelled like bleach, dust, and stale water. I sank against the wall, the torn collar of my shirt still clutched in one hand. Somewhere above me, faint and distant, an engine roared. The flight. My flight. The one I should have been on.

The air hostess already helped me unfold the chair into a mini bed. I strapped myself into the belt so that whatever had just happened would not repeat itself again. I needed distance. Not just physically, but mentally. To keep myself grounded, to distract myself from him and everything that had just happened, I pulled out a novel, “Nearly All Men in America Are Crazy” from my handbag and began to read. *** Lucas’ POV My heart sank when I saw the novel she began to read. I knew that book. It was a bestseller that many women rushed to buy to understand how to understand the plans of men against them.

She settled back into her seat and then the door to the plane was closed. I took my phone and scrolled up to the top and started into the novel my mom sent me. I was lost in her messages within minutes. It started off normally. She messaged about her day, asked me about mine, but things took a turn after the first week. I felt my face tighten as I read further. The plane had reached cruising speed, and the flight attendant came around. “Did you need a snack or drink?” “Give me a glass of red wine. Whatever is on hand is fine.” I growled out.

What if Bonus Chapter 2: What If They Met at an Airport Delay? Eli POV The departure board glowed an angry, unforgiving red in the bustling international terminal, the word DELAYED stamped across every single flight like a cruel cosmic punchline. My connection to London had already been pushed back six hours, then eight, and now it sat at “indefinite.” I slumped deeper into the stiff plastic chair near Gate 12, backpack wedged protectively between my feet. My worn copy of *Midnight’s Children* lay open on my lap, pages barely turning despite my best efforts. Silver nail polish chipped at the edges from anxious tapping, ink smudges stained my fingers from frantic thesis notes scribbled during

He stepped up behind her, his large, warm hands coming down to rest on her shoulders, squeezing gently to melt away the rigid tension that had kept her body locked all morning. "This entire flight belongs to us. For the next fifteen hours, the world cannot touch you or our boy." As the massive jet roared to life and smoothly ascended into the heavy clouds above New York, transitioning into the quiet, starlit peace of the upper atmosphere, Lydia sat in the main salon. She watched Hayes giggling as a private flight attendant served him a custom-made plate of miniature animal-shaped pancakes and fresh strawberries. But inside, the core struggle was tearing Lydia apart.

POV: Evelyn The flight was long, but I didn’t spend time thinking about anything I had left behind, because once I boarded and took my seat, I decided to keep everything about that marriage, and that part of my life already felt closed off in a way that didn’t need revisiting. By the time the plane landed, I was already clear on what I needed to do next. The city was unfamiliar, and that was exactly what I wanted, because no one here knew my name, no one knew the Hayes family, and no one would look at me and see a woman who had just walked away from a marriage worth billions.

Nicholas said while impatiently waving his hand, gesturing for her to leave. Luna knew that Nicholas always cared about the child in Clarice's belly, and now that the child was born, he must be very angry, so she didn't dare to wait any longer. She immediately placed the file bag in front of Nicholas and quickly left the office. At the International Airport, the flight to Granada, one of the most beautiful cities in Spain, was about to take off. Inside a quiet and comfortable executive cabin, a woman with long hair and a blue silk shirt was reading a pathology book with rapt attention. When the plane took off, she raised her wrist and checked the time on her watch. She closed her eyes for a

I must say, there was a novel that was quite enjoyable to read. She watched for more than three hours, but didn't finish. Instead, she started to feel a bit tired, so she lay down and slept for a while. When I woke up again, the announcement on the plane reminded that the plane would land in twenty minutes. Charlotte rubbed her face and picked up her phone to continue reading the unfinished novel. Half an hour later, the plane landed in Yaraiso. At this time, it was exactly midnight in the domestic time. There weren't many people at the airport, and the two of them took a taxi to check in at the hotel.

This was planned. The airport was busy with people traveling late at night. I sat in a corner seat, holding my ticket to Toronto like it would save me. I watched rain run down the big windows. Flight 447 to Toronto. Leaving at 1:45 AM. My escape to freedom. The bright lights made harsh shadows on my face, but I liked being hidden. Here, with hundreds of strangers going to their own places, I was nobody. Not Marcus Moretti's wife. Not Sophia's forgotten sister. Not the fool who spent three years giving everything for love that wasn't real.

He shoved me up the stairs and into the plush, cream-colored interior of the jet. "Sit," he commanded, pointing to a leather armchair. I sat, pulling my knees up, trying to hide inside Mace's coat. The scent of pine and wilderness still clung to the wool, a cruel reminder of what I had lost. The flight was an eternity suspended in a pressurized tube over the black ocean. Michael ignored me completely. He drank amber liquid from crystal glasses and read documents, as calmly as if he were in his office. I stared out the small porthole at nothing, my mind a loop of Mace’s paralyzed face and the impending horror of what awaited me.