Chapter 7 #2
The belt clicks. Her fingers tremble, just barely. I catch the change in her breathing as the engines start to wake—the subtle tightening in her shoulders, the crease between her brows when she tries to hide it.
“Scared of flying?” I ask.
“No,” she lies. “Just not used to flying in something this… small.”
“You’ll be fine,” I tell her, though her grip on the armrest says otherwise. When the engines spool higher, she tenses. Without thinking, I reach across and ease her fingers loose, my hand closing over hers.
“Don’t hold on too tight,” I murmur. “It makes it worse.”
Her skin is warm, soft against my palm. I should pull back sooner than I do. When I finally let go, her pulse is still racing, and for some reason, mine isn’t as steady as usual either.
Once we’re in the air, the clouds swallow the horizon. Calina unbuckles, stretching out across the sofa. Milana digs through a stack of magazines, already making herself at home.
I loosen my collar, the first real breath of ease I’ve had in days.
“So,” Milana says, flipping a page. “How did you propose, exactly?”
Kira nearly chokes on her coffee. “What?”
Milana grins. “You’re supposed to be engaged. I want details.”
I glance at Kira, curious how she’ll answer.
“Um,” she starts, “he didn’t really ask. It was more of a business arrangement.”
Milana gasps theatrically. “You mean he didn’t even get on one knee?”
“She didn’t give me the chance,” I say, the corner of my mouth lifting before I can stop it.
Kira shoots me a look. “You didn’t ask.”
“Details,” I reply, too easily.
Calina sighs. “Men.” She looks at Kira with that gentle, understanding smile she saves for everyone who crosses our path. “Don’t let him fool you. He plans everything.”
That earns me a sideways glance from Kira. “Did he plan this too? Bringing you both along?”
Milana answers first. “He didn’t want to leave us with Father.”
Calina’s tone is careful. “It’s better this way.”
The question in Kira’s eyes finds me before I can avoid it. I meet her stare for a beat, then turn away.
“He’s not… the warmest of fathers,” Milana says quietly.
I stand, pretending to check the small bar near the front, letting their voices fade behind me.
When I return, I take the small velvet box out of my pocket and set it on the table between us. “You’ll need this.”
She hesitates before opening it. The light catches on the ring’s diamond—bright, cold, mercilessly perfect.
“It was my mother’s,” I say, my voice lower than intended.
She looks up, but I can’t meet her eyes. The memory sits too close to the surface, fragile as glass.
“It’s beautiful,” she says softly.
“It’s been waiting long enough.”
She slips it on, and the weight of it sits heavy against the light of her hand.
Milana whistles. Calina smiles. I look back toward the window, watching the endless white outside.
There’s a part of me that wants to tell her what the ring really means, what it used to mean, but I don’t.
I’ve already given her enough ghosts for one morning.
The sisters talk as the hours stretch on—old stories, family jokes, small glimpses of a life Kira doesn’t know yet. For once, their laughter doesn’t grate. It fills the space, makes it warmer. She listens, and slowly, her guard drops.
At one point, Calina reaches across the aisle and takes Kira’s hand. “We’re glad you’re coming,” she says. “He’s… difficult sometimes, but he’s better when there’s someone around who doesn’t just agree with him.”
Kira laughs quietly. “You mean someone stupid enough to argue?”
“Exactly.”
Their hands part, but the softness between them lingers. I look at Kira again, and for the first time, she doesn’t look away. There’s no challenge or fear in it—just awareness.
Milana drifts off first, curled up with a blanket, and Calina soon after. The plane grows quiet except for the hum of the engines and the low, rhythmic thud of my pulse.
I work through a folder, pretending to read, but my focus keeps sliding back to her reflection in the glass. She’s watching me, thoughtful, her chin resting on her hand.
“You’re staring,” I say without looking up.
Her fingers tighten on the seat. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
I glance at her then. Her eyes are darker in the cabin light, warm and uncertain. The air shifts. I can feel her wanting to look away but not quite managing it.
She finally shakes her head, half smiling, the motion slow. A loose strand of hair falls forward. She tucks it back behind her ear, eyes still on me. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
I study her for a moment—the faint trace of amusement in her voice, the warmth creeping back into her expression. It’s disarming in a way I don’t like. My thumb taps once against the edge of the folder before I close it.
Leaning back, I stretch out slightly, shoulders easing into the seat. “Yes,” I say simply.
She watches the movement, and for a moment neither of us looks away. The air feels heavier than before, quiet. She doesn’t argue. She just watches the ring on her finger catch the light, and something in her expression softens.
After a while, I tell her, “Try to sleep. It’s a long flight.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking,” I say, reaching into the cabinet for a blanket. I hand it to her, careful not to brush her hand this time.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
I nod and settle back, eyes half-closed, but I can feel her gaze still tracing me, the way she studies every crack I let show.
The cabin fades into quiet. My sisters are asleep, the world outside silver and endless. Beside me, Kira shifts under the blanket, her shoulder brushing mine.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, the silence doesn’t feel empty. It feels almost human.