I adjusted my glasses and focused on the notebook in my lap, tracing the worn edge of its cover with my thumb. They wanted a reaction. They weren’t going to get one.

“See,” a well-dressed woman in the next row said loudly to a flight attendant, gesturing toward me, “this is what happens when you let anyone into business class. It ruins the experience for everyone.”

She didn’t even bother lowering her voice.

The attendant gave an awkward smile and muttered something about policy, but the damage was done. I caught the way two men across the aisle glanced at me and nodded as if agreeing with her. The kind of nod that said I was an outsider who didn’t belong in their world.

Marcela didn’t miss her chance to pile on.

“Well,” she said, dramatically adjusting her scarf, “at least she’s finally the center of attention. Isn’t that what you always wanted, Nova?”

Her voice carried like it always did. Polished, theatrical, just enough venom to sting.

Rex chuckled and tilted his phone slightly, pretending to scroll while his camera lens faced me.

“Mom, let her have her moment,” he said, grinning. “She looks like she’s about to cry. That’ll get more likes.”

I gripped my pen tighter, imagining how easy it would be to jab it into the smug look on his face.

Instead, I wrote a single word in my notebook.

Breathe.

The cabin was buzzing. Snippets of whispers, quick laughs, and that low hum of judgment I knew too well. It felt like every pair of eyes in business class was on me.

But then, suddenly, the tone shifted.

The plane jolted hard, throwing Rex’s drink into his lap. Overhead bins rattled violently, and the lights flickered. A cart clanged in the galley as a flight attendant stumbled to keep her balance. Gasps rippled through the cabin, followed by a child’s shrill cry from somewhere in the back.

“What in the world?” Marcella grabbed at her pearls, clutching them like they could keep the plane in the air. “This is unacceptable.”

“Great,” Rex groaned, wiping at his stained pants. “I paid for business class, not a roller coaster.”

But I knew better.

This wasn’t turbulence from a passing cloud.

My mind kicked into a quiet practiced rhythm.

Pitch feels off. Left engine strain heavier. Altitude drift. Not standard crosswind.

I didn’t say it out loud, but I wrote the notations in my notebook, just like I’d been trained to do once upon a time.

The flight attendants moved down the aisle quickly, securing carts and instructing passengers to buckle up. One of them paused at our row, checking if we were all right. Marcela immediately started berating her about spilled drinks and lack of service. The attendant nodded politely and hurried on.