The boarding call cut through the lounge, jolting Sherlyn out of the strange comfort she had found in his presence.

“Passengers traveling on Flight 6E-421 to Delhi, please proceed to Gate 27 for boarding.”

She glanced up at him. He was already standing, slipping his book into his backpack, adjusting his jacket with the easy confidence of someone used to travel.

Sherlyn hesitated. Part of her wanted to say something, anything. Another part feared that if she spoke, the fragile magic of this chance encounter would shatter.

But then, as if reading her hesitation, he stepped closer.
“Well… looks like this is it,” he said with a quiet smile.

Her lips parted, but before she could form words, the crowd surged forward, pulling him into its current. He moved with them, disappearing into the boarding line.

Sherlyn’s heart dropped. Just like that — gone.

She sank back into her chair, disappointed at her own silence. She stared at the departure board, wondering why it suddenly felt colder, emptier.

And then, she noticed something.

On the small table beside her coffee cup lay a folded slip of paper. No — not paper. A boarding pass.

She picked it up, her fingers trembling. It was his.
Flight details, his seat number… and scribbled across the back in neat handwriting:

“Sometimes, delays are meant to happen. Row 14, Seat A.”

Her pulse quickened. She stared at the words, reading them again and again, as if afraid they might vanish.

Sherlyn’s flight wasn’t boarding yet. She still had time.

And with that single note, a decision formed in her chest — a dangerous one.