The sound grew, scattering applause throughout the cabin. I bit my lip, trying to hold back tears. Not from embarrassment this time, but from the strange, unexpected comfort of the gesture.
The flight attendant turned to me, her expression soft.
“Miss, I want to apologize for what happened. No one should have to experience that.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“We have an open seat in business class,” she continued. “We’d like to move you there as a gesture of goodwill.
Would that be okay?”
I hesitated. “I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“You’re not causing trouble,” she said, her voice kind. “Please.
Let us take care of you.”
I nodded, murmuring, “Thank you.”
As I settled into my new seat, she brought me a cup of coffee and a small bag of cookies, then left me to relax. I stared out the window, the clouds a soft white blur against the endless blue. My breathing slowed, the knot in my chest loosening.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, I let myself cry.
Quiet tears slid down my cheeks. I thought about my friends’ words, how they’d told me I was still me, scars and all. “You’re still beautiful,” one had said.
“You’re just fierce now too.”
I looked out the window again. The clouds seemed endless, stretching far into the horizon. My tears stopped.
I took a deep breath, the air filling my lungs like a promise.
As the plane glided forward, I felt something I hadn’t in weeks: hope.
