Y/n, however, had already found a seat by the window, 14A, and had watched the entire ballet of boarding from a safe distance. Bag in the overhead bin. Seatbelt buckled. A book open, but unread.

The aisle filled and emptied. Families split up. Businessmen settled with their laptops already out. A woman asked if the seat next to Y/n was taken, and Y/n shook their head—but she moved on anyway.

Then, as the last few passengers trickled down the aisle, there was a pause. A hesitation, just outside row 14.

A man with dark curls, a worn leather jacket, and a look of mild panic at the sight of his boarding pass, then at the seat beside Y/n.