Chapter 1
444- Protection
🎶Double take by Dhruv🎶
Venitia
My heart leaps a beat as I look at the people around me. I grabbed my luggage and made my way toward the self-transfer section. I have printed off the tag and ticket.
A long line stretches ahead at the self-transfer conveyor belt, frustration hanging thick in the air. Two of the five machines are out of order, their screens dark and unresponsive, adding to the mounting tension. A throbbing headache begins to creep in, pulsing at my temples as I force myself to breathe through my mouth, trying to stave off the panic rising within. The thought echoes repeatedly in my mind: "I cannot miss this flight."
I shake my head, trying to calm my breath and thoughts. I have already missed one flight; if I miss this one, I will have to kiss goodbye to the Christmas celebrations.
The elderly couple beside me groans. "Are we moving forward? Where is the assistance team? I told you to agree to the assistance at the entrance. This is such a hassle."
I cannot help but agree with her. We have all been standing here for a while now. With the luggage they carry, it would have been better if they had taken the airport assistance.
My gaze flickers to the teenagers and their parents standing to my right. The girl wearing the pink hoodie is smiling at whatever her Dad says, while the grey hoodie guy frowns at the black hoodie guy.
They were the only group with fifteen adults and kids. Everyone's instant attention went to them. I broke my contact when the grey hoodie guy turned his face towards where I was standing. I looked at the line ahead. The line isn't moving, nor is the luggage.
My phone pinged with a message. I unlocked the phone to read Olympia's message. 'Venitia. . . We landed two hours ago and went to the hotel. Let's meet for brunch.'
Cursing, I typed the message, 'I haven't landed yet. I missed the flight.'
'What?! How are you going to make it over here? We cannot cancel anything!'
I can mentally hear her roaring in panic and tapping my foot rapidly in tension. I sent her a message. 'Do not worry. I will make it.'
I watched the screen as the grey dots bobbed. The anxiety is growing inside me. I cannot lie about my situation to Olympia. 'Fingers crossed! I'm worried, and I really hope you make it over here.'
'Yes.' I didn't get any reply, which I'm grateful for. I kept glancing at the airport staff and the conveyor belt. The time is ticking by— I should have listened to Martin and gone to sleep early.
I shouldn't have fallen asleep, and then I woke up late. Thousands of thoughts ran through my head. I shook them and tried to think of positive thoughts.
*
The cupcakes I had for breakfast churned in my stomach as I looked at the scheduled departure screen. My flight had been delayed by two hours. I massaged my temples before looking around.
There weren't enough seats for everyone during the holiday season. All the flights have been delayed. I tighten the scarf around my neck before searching for a seat. I find a seat at gate 34. It was beside a teenager whose eyes were glued to the iPad.
I take the seat and lean back, only to straighten up when my head touches the back of someone on the other side. "I'm sorry." I apologise quickly.
"It's okay, " the muffled voice said. I didn't glance to see who it was. I don't waste battery power by checking messages or emails.
*
"Thank you," I whisper to the flight attendant, my voice barely audible over the hum of the cabin. As I navigate the narrow aisle, my heart pounds rhythmically against my ribcage. I certainly wouldn’t have splurged on this luxurious upgrade if the economy seats had been available.
There was a line before me—three teenagers with their cabin bags. I only have my laptop bag with me. My phone starts ringing in my pocket. I pull it out to answer the call.
"Hey, babe! Have you reached Bangkok?!" Reyana shouts. I pull the phone away from my ear before pulling it back. "I'm at the airport."
"Delayed flight?" I could hear the background music. She must've stayed the night at Sage's apartment. "No, I missed the flight and am now boarding the next one."
"No shit." She laughs. "This must be a record! You have never missed a flight in your life."
"I know. . . I know. . . It just happened, and now I'm trying to reach Bangkok before time."
“Olympia might’ve flipped out, isn’t she?” I sigh heavily. “I don’t know. She didn’t call me when I texted her a while ago. She must’ve, but she hopes I can make it before time.”
“You will. Anyway, did you eat anything?” I moved forward and looked for the seat 14A. When I finally found my seat, I stopped and waited for the boy before me to move forward. “Wait a sec.” I put the phone on mute and kept it inside my pocket.
I asked the flight attendant to help keep my bag in the cabin. I need proper rest before we reach Bangkok. “Thank you,” I say before taking my seat. I looked at the masked man who was behind me.
Apparently, he is 14B. I ignored him and pulled out my phone. “Well, you took your time. Now tell me, did you eat something before leaving for the airport?”
“I had Martin’s cupcakes.”
“What?” I roll my eyes. “They were the only thing left from the party. Everything was finished.”
She laughed. “No one attempted to eat them because Martin sucks at baking. I don’t know how you ate them.”
“They were edible, and I was hungry.”
“I would’ve asked Dave to drop you off and asked him to pack something from his restaurant.” Reyana’s on and off. Dave is a sweet guy who runs this beautiful, cosy Italian restaurant downtown.
“Dave is busy, and I didn’t want you to disturb him.”
“He is never busy when it comes to us.” I cannot help but roll my eyes. “He is never busy when it comes to you.”
There’s shuffling on the other side. “No, you are my bestfriend, and that alone entitles you to call him for help, and he would— Well, have to help you.”
“I’m not gonna argue about it now.” I look at the others who are boarding the plane. “Who is sitting beside you?” she asks. I look at my neighbour, who towers even in his seated position. He is engrossed in the book cradled in his hands, his gaze unwavering as he reads. His face is hidden by a mask, making me wonder about his true features. The way he sits—poised yet relaxed—evokes a sense of familiarity, as if he resembles someone from my past. There’s something hauntingly reminiscent about his posture.
“Hello. . . Babe? Are you still on line?”
“Yes.”
“So, how is your seat meat?”
“Hmm— I don’t know. It’s he.” She whistles, and I know she is smiling. “Oh. . . Oh. . . Is he atleast hot?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I put the phone to my other ear. “He is wearing a mask,” I whisper, not wanting the guy to hear it. Thank god he is wearing wired earphones.
“Sad. . . However, you have twenty hours to figure out his features. If he is hot, don’t forget to send me a snap.”
“I will try.”
“I will talk to you once you land. Sage has come out of the washroom. It’s my turn to use.”
“Okay.”
“I love you, and I miss you this holiday, babe.” A genuine smile starts playing on my face. “I love you, and I miss you too. . . I will make up for this.”
“You better.” I end the call and lean back in my seat. This time, I look around and admire the comfort of my seat. I have only seen the photos and YouTube videos about business class. I was never rich enough to travel to business class.
Though it put a big dent in my bank account, I cannot help but feel giddy about what is to come.
I have heard a lot of good things about Emirates. Thankfully, I was able to experience Emirates this time. I tap my fingers on the seat and inspect all the amenities that they have provided.
Five minutes passed in comfortable silence before the attendant, a warm smile adorning her face, introduced herself as Mia. She gracefully served us our pre-departure drinks, presenting us with an enticing selection of four options. Mia assured us we could also request additional drinks from the extensive menu.
I opted for the refreshing lemon mint. Beside me, the man settled on a robust double shot of espresso. His rich and resonant voice struck a chord of familiarity, compelling me to turn and catch a glimpse of him. However, I ultimately restrained myself, intrigued yet hesitant to bridge the distance.
I sipped my drink and looked at the watch. Two minutes passed before they handed out the hot, scented towel I used to wipe my face and hands. Thankfully, I wasn’t wearing any makeup.
*
The flight took off. The drinks and snacks were served, and I thoroughly enjoyed each snack. I also loved the wine collection. I decided to work for a bit. The guy beside me was working on his laptop.
I need to review some emails from Olympia and my agent, Marigold. Olympia introduced me to Marigold, and both have been instrumental in my journey since entering the publishing industry.
I have a mixed relationship with Olympia; while I feel a bit intimidated by her, I also hold a deep respect for who she is. In contrast, Marigold brings me a sense of calm and comfort. She doesn't frighten me; over time, we've become good friends. We enjoy meeting occasionally for drinks, which adds to the warmth of our friendship.
Olympia is a dedicated workaholic who always strives to meet deadlines, while I tend to take a more laid-back approach to projects. She is currently focused on submitting a manuscript, a task that requires my full attention and effort. Reflecting on our last project together, I realize how much anxiety and stress my procrastination caused her—stress that may well have lasted a year.
I'm determined to avoid repeating past mistakes, so I plan to begin my new project early and ensure that I submit the manuscript on time. It's also intriguing to me how Olympia and Marigold have maintained their friendship for twenty years; I still don't quite grasp the dynamics of their relationship.
Not that I'm complaining when Revana and I are complete opposites. As I shrugged off my thoughts, I stood up from my seat and reached for my bag stowed in the overhead cabin. In the midst of this, my headphones unexpectedly fell into the lap of the person sitting next to me.
I turn to him. "I'm sorry." His gaze locked onto mine, intense and probing, as he raised his head. I noticed his eyes widen in surprise, a flicker of recognition passing between us.
I reached down to pick them up with a sense of urgency, but my hand froze mid-air when I realised their precarious location. A moment of hesitation followed, and I stepped back, waiting for him to extend his hand and pass them to me.
"Thank you," I said, settling into my seat. I sensed his gaze lingering on me. Curiosity sparked within me, prompting me to turn and meet his eyes with a questioning glance."Venitia?"
"You are Venitia, aren't you?" he asks, removing his mask. My eyes grow wide with surprise and dread as I stare in disbelief. He seems taken aback, his expression mirroring my own shock at our unexpected encounter.
"Venitia. . ." He whispers, more like to himself, as the tips of his mouth turn upwards. "What a small world."
