Sundays were usually my favorite days. They were quieter, slower—a time to breathe and collect myself before the week ahead. But this Sunday morning, as I sat at the kitchen table in Adrian’s apartment with a mug of coffee in my hands, my heart was anything but calm. Adrian was at the stove, making pancakes like he always did on our lazy mornings together. He was humming under his breath, a tune I couldn’t quite place, and the sound should have comforted me. Instead, my thoughts were spinning, a jumble of emotions I couldn’t quite untangle. Last night, he had brought it up for the first time. Marriage. The word hung in the air between us now, even though neither of us had spoken about it again. I wanted to be happy. I was happy with him—happier than I’d ever thought I could be. But the thought of tying our futures together in such a permanent way? It terrified me in a way I hadn’t expected. “Pancakes are ready,” Adrian said, turning around with a grin. He carried the plate to the
I didn’t expect to feel the tension knotting in my chest when Matthew called me out of the blue. It had been months since we last spoke—years, really, since we were as close as we used to be. Life had pulled us in different directions, but he had always been there, a figure in the background of my memories. So when he suggested we grab coffee to catch up, I didn’t think twice. It was nice to see him again, at first. Matthew had the same boyish smile, the same easy charm that made him so endearing when we were kids. We talked about everything—our old adventures, our careers, even the silly arguments we used to have over whose turn it was to pick the movie. For a while, it felt like no time had passed. But as the conversation shifted to my life now, I began to feel the undercurrent of something heavier. “So, Adrian, huh?” Matthew asked, leaning back in his chair with a skeptical raise of his eyebrow. “You two seem… serious.” I smiled, trying to ignore the edge in his tone. “We are.
I glanced at my watch for the third time in ten minutes, an uneasy feeling twisting in my stomach. Adrian had promised to meet me for dinner tonight, but I was starting to accept that he wouldn’t make it. Again. The waiter passed by with an apologetic smile, and I waved him off, pretending that the glass of wine in front of me was enough to occupy my time. My phone buzzed on the table, and I grabbed it, half-hoping it was Adrian telling me he was on his way. Instead, it was a message from my airline, confirming my next flight schedule. A wave of frustration washed over me. This wasn’t the life I’d envisioned when Adrian and I had decided to make our relationship work. I understood that he was dealing with a crisis at his company—something about a competitor launching a campaign that was eating into his market share. He’d tried to explain it to me a few nights ago, but his words had been rushed, his tone distracted. All I knew was that it was consuming him. When the waiter approach
The air was thick with tension as I set the table for dinner. I had carefully planned this evening, wanting everything to be perfect—or as perfect as it could be given the circumstances. Adrian hadn’t been himself lately. If I thought things had been strained before, they now felt on the verge of breaking. I’d spent the afternoon cooking his favorite meal, hoping it would remind him of a simpler time, a time before his company’s struggles began consuming every corner of our lives. The candles flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the table. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Adrian walked through the door just as I was finishing. He looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, his tie slightly askew. He barely noticed the effort I’d put into the evening as he dropped his briefcase by the door and loosened his collar. “Hey,” he said absently, giving me a fleeting glance before heading toward the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. “Adrian,” I called softl
Adrian's change didn’t happen overnight. It started in small, almost imperceptible ways—an earlier return home, a quick kiss on my forehead before heading into his office, or a question about my day that wasn’t just a formality. But over time, those small gestures began to add up, creating a sense of closeness we hadn’t felt in weeks. One evening, I found him sitting at the kitchen table, laptop closed, staring at his phone with a furrowed brow. “Everything okay?” I asked, placing my bag on the counter. He looked up, and his expression softened. “Yeah, just trying to decide which tasks I can delegate for tomorrow. I promised you dinner, remember?” I smiled, walking over to kiss his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that.” “Yes, I did,” he said firmly, slipping his hand into mine. “I need to start putting us first.” At first, I didn’t know what to make of his newfound dedication. Adrian was a man who thrived on control—handing over even a small part of his responsibilities was like a
I never expected a routine day at work to turn my life upside down. It started with a meeting at headquarters—a gathering of flight attendants to announce upcoming changes in the company. I’d sat there, sipping my coffee, only half-listening, until the words "new leadership roles" and "relocation opportunities" caught my attention. The regional manager stood at the front of the room, beaming. "We're looking for someone to lead the new international team based in San Francisco. It's a competitive role, and we’ll be considering applications from experienced staff. This is an incredible opportunity for growth and advancement." My heart skipped a beat. The chance to oversee an international team? It was more than I’d ever dared to dream of in my career. But the excitement was quickly overshadowed by a gnawing sense of dread. San Francisco was thousands of miles away. If I took this role, I’d have to leave Adrian behind. That evening, as I walked through the front door of our apartment,
The decision wasn’t easy. In fact, it was one of the hardest choices I’ve ever had to make. For days, I wrestled with the pros and cons, replaying countless scenarios in my mind. I’d always prided myself on being able to make quick decisions—my job as a flight attendant often demanded it—but this? This was different. This wasn’t about managing turbulence or rerouting a flight plan. This was about my future. Adrian was supportive, as he always had been. But I could see the quiet pain in his eyes every time we discussed the offer. It was as if he was steeling himself for the inevitable, even though he tried to hide it from me. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he said one evening, his voice soft as we sat on the couch. I sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “I’ve just… I’ve been thinking a lot.” “About the job?” I nodded. “It’s not just about the job, though. It’s about us. About what this means for our relationship.” He reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I
I knew long-distance relationships were hard, but I didn’t realize how deeply it could affect every part of my life until Adrian and I tried it. In the beginning, I told myself it would be temporary, a phase we had to endure for the sake of our dreams. The excitement of starting my new job in San Francisco and Adrian’s encouraging words gave me strength. I thought we were prepared for the challenge. But I wasn’t. Not really. The first few weeks were manageable, almost exciting. We texted constantly, sent each other photos of our meals, our offices, and little moments throughout the day. Our video calls felt like lifelines, something to look forward to after long days apart. Adrian would call late at night, his deep voice soothing me as I sat in my small apartment, still trying to make it feel like home. “I miss you,” he’d say, his face lit up by the soft glow of his laptop screen. “I miss you too,” I’d whisper, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. --- By the second month, rea
The soft hum of the city outside our apartment had always been a kind of comfort. It was a steady pulse, a reminder that life was always moving, no matter what. But tonight, in the quiet of our little world, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change. Adrian and I had been through so much already. The whirlwind of our relationship, the ups and downs, the unexpected twists and turns that life always seems to throw at us. And now, here we were—sitting side by side on the balcony of our home, wrapped in the warmth of the evening air, watching as the city lights flickered like tiny stars beneath us. I looked at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights below, and my heart did that familiar flip it always did when I thought of how much he meant to me. Adrian Blackwell, the man who had come into my life when I least expected it, but exactly when I needed him the most. And now, we were here, building something together that felt bigger than jus
Turbulence is one of those things you can’t predict, and no matter how experienced you are, it never quite loses its ability to unsettle everyone. It’s a routine challenge we face on almost every flight, but each time it happens, it’s different. The severity, the length, the reactions of passengers—it’s always a unique experience. But no matter what, it’s my job to stay calm and handle the situation with as much grace as I can. I remember one flight in particular that stands out in my mind. It was a late evening flight, and the sky looked calm as we ascended into the clouds. The passengers were quiet, probably already beginning to settle in for the night. I’d made my rounds, offered snacks and drinks, and was just about to start my routine check when it happened—an unexpected jolt, followed by a few more. The plane began to dip and sway with turbulence so severe that the seatbelt sign stayed on for nearly the entire trip. I’ve been through my fair share of bumpy flights, but this on
As a flight attendant, I’ve seen it all: the joys of a smooth flight, the turbulence that leaves everyone clutching their armrests, and the occasional drama that unfolds when a passenger realizes their luggage has been lost. It's not something that ever seems catastrophic at the time, but it can easily sour someone's day, especially after they've just endured a long, exhausting flight. And trust me, I can totally relate. There’s nothing worse than stepping off a plane, already drained, only to be told that your bags didn't make it. It’s enough to make anyone's mood take a nosedive. But here's the thing: when something goes wrong, it’s up to me—and my fellow crew members—to make sure that passengers feel like they’re not alone in dealing with it. We may not be able to solve every issue immediately, but we can make sure they feel heard and taken care of, which, in my experience, makes all the difference. And in the case of lost luggage, empathy and support can go a long way in turning
A few months ago, I found myself in the midst of one of the most intense situations I’ve ever experienced in my career as a flight attendant. We were cruising at 35,000 feet, just over the Atlantic, when it happened. A medical emergency on a flight isn’t something you ever expect to happen, but when it does, your training kicks in, and the stakes are as high as they can possibly get. The cabin was relatively quiet, passengers settling in for the long haul, when I noticed a woman slumped in her seat, her head resting at an unnatural angle against the window. At first, I thought she was just tired, maybe a bit too drowsy from a long day of travel. But then I saw it—the way her body was limp, the faintness in her complexion. Her lips were pale, her eyes closed, and her hands—clutched in her lap—were completely still. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t right. My heart rate picked up, and the immediate reaction was instinctive, though I had trained for this very moment. I rushed over,
As a flight attendant, it’s not uncommon for me to encounter passengers who are terrified of flying. It’s one of the more delicate parts of my job, navigating the turbulence of a flight while also soothing the turbulence within a nervous passenger’s mind. But it’s not always as simple as just offering a warm smile or a soft word. Fear can be a very real, very palpable thing for some people, and it takes more than a friendly gesture to ease their anxiety. I’ve always had a knack for calming people down, a quiet ability to be still and present in moments of panic. It’s something I learned over the years, not just from training, but from observing people, reading their body language, and understanding the emotions beneath the surface. Every day I work with people who are on edge in one way or another—some from the stress of travel, others from the uncertainty of what lies ahead. But then there are those who board a plane with a knot in their stomach, a deep-rooted fear that they just ca
The day has arrived. Our wedding day. The day I’ve imagined in so many different ways, but never quite like this. Every moment feels like a dream, something I’ve been waiting for my entire life. But as I stand here, looking out over the small crowd of our closest family and friends, I know this is real. This is our reality. Adrian and I, finally tying the knot, surrounded by the people who have supported us throughout our journey. The morning has been a whirlwind of activity, with the last-minute preparations coming together as if by magic. The sounds of laughter, the soft hum of music in the background, and the gentle rush of excitement in the air make everything feel so surreal. But in the midst of it all, I’m calm. At peace. This is where I’m meant to be, with the man I love, about to start the rest of our lives together. I’m standing in front of the mirror, adjusting my veil, when I hear the soft knock on the door. “Isla?” Adrian’s voice is muffled through the wood, and I can f
It’s hard to believe that the day is almost here. The wedding day. The one we’ve been planning for months, the one I thought would never come. In a way, it feels surreal, like I’m living in a dream. But this isn’t a dream; this is my reality. Adrian and I are about to marry each other, and not only that, we’re about to become parents. It’s a lot to process, especially when you’re the one who’s carrying the child. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a different version of myself. A woman who’s about to step into a new chapter. A wife. A mother. The weight of that is something I’ve never quite been prepared for, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying all at once. The days leading up to the wedding have been a whirlwind, just like everything in our lives. Adrian’s schedule has been as busy as ever, but he’s made it clear that this is a priority for him. For us. Even with the constant phone calls, meetings, and deadlines that come with being the CEO of Blackwell Enterprises, he’s
It wasn’t until I held the positive pregnancy test in my hands that everything shifted. For so long, Adrian and I had lived in a whirlwind—his demanding position as the CEO of Blackwell Enterprises, my career as a flight attendant, the constant ebb and flow of responsibilities, deadlines, and travels. I suppose I always assumed we would have time to plan our wedding properly, to do it the way we wanted, but somewhere along the way, life had gotten in the way. What started as a simple promise to have an intimate ceremony had been put on hold, again and again, until it felt like something that could wait forever.But now, with a baby on the way, the sense of urgency was there. Not in a panicked way, but in the way you realize something matters deeply—more than anything else—and it’s time to make it a priority. We were preparing to become parents, to create a life together, and that meant honoring our commitment to one another in the most personal, meaningful way we could.It was Adrian’
The morning began like any other. The soft light filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the room. I woke up to the familiar sound of Adrian’s breathing beside me, his arm draped over my waist. It was a peaceful moment, one I had grown to cherish more and more lately. Things had shifted between us, in a way that felt like we were growing into a new phase of our lives—one where we had learned to lean on each other, not just in the face of challenges, but in moments of calm as well.But that morning, as I stretched and turned toward Adrian to kiss him awake, something felt different. There was a flutter in my chest, a tightness in my stomach that I couldn’t quite place. I had been feeling it for days now—this strange mix of unease and excitement. My body felt different, my energy levels had dipped, and the nausea had been more persistent than usual. I thought I might be getting sick, but there was something inside of me that whispered it could be more than that.As I lay