Chapter 5

Today was my last flight as Noah's copilot, and Bella's maiden voyage as the 787's purser.

In the rest room, I was carefully adjusting my uniform when the door pushed open softly. Bella walked in on high heels.

She leaned against the doorframe, eyes falling on my shoulders. "How pathetic—together with Noah five years, and he can't even publicly acknowledge you. Seems in his heart, you'll always be someone who can't see daylight."

I continued adjusting my cuffs, as if I hadn't heard her.

"Know what Noah told me that night in Central Park?" Her red lips curved up. "He said he missed our flying days together most."

My fingers tightened slightly, the metal edge of the cufflink pressing into my fingertip.

"Thanks for your hard work these five years." She moved closer. "Playing his assistant by day, his bed partner by night. But you must have noticed—his favorite positions were all ones I taught him."

"If you want to say these things, you should tell Noah." I turned to face her. "Or can you only show off in front of me?"

Bella's smile instantly froze, clearly not expecting my counterattack.

"Skyler, clinging to a man who doesn't love you—don't you find it humiliating?" Her voice dropped. "You know perfectly well Noah only has me in his heart. He's just killing time with you."

She stepped forward. "The gifts he gave you were just styles I didn't want. Even the man himself—I used him first. Only he and I are the most compatible, body and soul."

I looked at her calmly, suddenly finding this scene ridiculous. She expected to see me break down, but ever since I'd discovered those flirty texts on Noah's phone, my heart had withered like a dying flower—no amount of provocation could make it bloom again.

"Since you're so perfect together, I wish you both a happy reunion."

I glanced at her coolly, turned, and pushed open the rest room door.

Summer sunlight poured down, dancing on my crisp uniform. I squinted slightly, feeling the sun's warmth.

From today on, my life would be like this sunshine—bright and warm.

......

In the cockpit, Noah was doing pre-flight checks. We coordinated as seamlessly as the past five years.

"Flaps five degrees."

"Flaps five, check."

"Takeoff thrust set."

"Thrust set, check."

But every command today carried farewell. As the plane took off, I gazed at New York's skyline receding outside the window, knowing this was the last time I'd sit on his right.

From now on, I'd be the one holding the control column, bringing every aircraft safely through takeoff and landing.

At thirty-five thousand feet, Noah engaged autopilot. We walked out of the cockpit one after another to patrol the cabin, just arriving at the rest area when we came face-to-face with Bella.

"Noah." She called sweetly, though her eyes swept provocatively past me.

Just then, the plane suddenly hit severe turbulence. An overhead bin door popped open, and a heavy suitcase fell straight down.

Time stretched infinitely in that moment. I saw Noah instinctively pull Bella into his arms, while that case struck solidly on my right shoulder. Sharp pain made me stagger, but I immediately looked up to check the bin door status.

"Captain Skyler!" A flight attendant rushed over to help.

I glanced at Noah still tightly protecting Bella, calmly looking away. "First go calm the passengers. Tell them this is just normal turbulence."

After the attendant left, I looked up at the open bin door. "Whose responsibility was this?"

Bella lifted her head from Noah's embrace, eyes flickering. "Sorry, I just took something out and might not have closed it properly."

I worked my aching shoulder, voice serious. "Can't handle even this basic operation? What if it had hit a passenger?"

"Skyler," Noah finally spoke, brow furrowed, "it was an accident. Don't be so harsh."

Those words made my heart clench. I remembered three months ago when a new attendant forgot to secure the meal cart. He'd held an hour-long safety meeting after that flight ended.

"At thirty-five thousand feet, there's no such thing as 'accident.'" That's what he'd said then.

I opened my mouth, finally just smiling bitterly, turning to leave.

Back in the cockpit, the air between us seemed frozen. He tried to speak several times but finally only said, "About what just happened... I'm very sorry. But Bella was closer to me, I instinctively..."

"It's fine." I gazed at the boundless clouds ahead, suddenly finding all of this absurdly laughable. "This is my last time flying the 787 with you anyway."

Noah's expression froze, his fingers tightening unconsciously on the control panel. "You're angry about what just happened?"

My gaze returned from the clouds outside the window, shaking my head gently. "No."

He observed my profile carefully, voice deliberately soothing. "Bella's been away from this position five years. She needs time to readjust. You shouldn't be too hard on her."

Those words were like the final boulder crushing the last hope in my heart.

The pain in my shoulder was still throbbing, but what truly chilled me was his attitude—the one who made the mistake got tender protection, while the injured one was accused of being too harsh.

How ironic. This planned final flight ended in such an absurd situation.

I didn't speak again. The aching right shoulder felt like a prominent period, marking the endpoint of these five years. Some routes are destined to be flown alone.