Semua Bab Your Lips to Mine #6: Skybound Hearts: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The soft hum of the airplane engines is a comforting backdrop to my thoughts as I make my way through the terminal. Today’s flight was a quick one—only a few hours, but I’m already bracing myself for the next. I’ve gotten so used to this routine that I could do it with my eyes closed, but something about the endless repetition leaves a hollow feeling in my chest. A nagging emptiness that I can’t quite shake, no matter how many miles I fly or how many faces I see. I can never get away from the truth of it all—that the connections I make are always fleeting, like wisps of smoke disappearing the moment I think I might hold on to them. As I enter the staff lounge, my colleagues are buzzing with chatter about today’s passengers. Nothing extraordinary, they say. Just the usual crowd. But as usual, I keep my thoughts to myself. I nod and smile, offering polite responses where required, but inside, I’m already thinking about the next phase of my day, the next flight, the next moment where I

It’s funny how the mind works. How it can replay moments from the past when you least expect it, especially the ones you thought you had locked away. It’s not even something I consciously choose to do; it just happens. Like now. As I’m folding the last of the blankets in the cabin, getting ready for my next flight, the memory of Adrian Blackwell flashes through my mind again, uninvited. That quiet, distant gaze. The brief, electric tension between us. It all felt… different. And I don’t like different. I can’t afford to like different. The thing is, I’ve been here before. I’ve been in relationships where I allowed myself to believe in something more. I allowed myself to think that maybe, just maybe, I could be seen for who I really am, not just as the flight attendant who brings drinks and blankets. But each time, I was wrong. Every. Single. Time. My mind drifts back to one particular memory, one I haven’t thought about in a while. It was years ago, back when I was still hopeful.

I was sorting through my uniform, getting ready for another long flight, when I heard my colleague, Jenna, speak from behind me. She always had this uncanny ability to catch me off guard when I wasn’t expecting it. “Isla,” she began, a teasing note in her voice, “you’ve got it bad, don’t you?” I didn’t have to turn around to know exactly who she was talking about. I’d been avoiding it for days, weeks now, but of course, someone else had to notice. Jenna had been one of my closest friends in the airline industry for years, and she knew me too well. She knew how to read the signs. But I had learned long ago that sometimes, it’s easier to deflect than to confront. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, my tone cool and controlled, though I felt a flicker of nervousness in my chest. I was trying my best to remain unaffected. Trying to make sure my emotions didn’t get the best of me. “Oh, come on,” Jenna said, walking over and leaning against the counter beside me. “Y

I’ve been a flight attendant for so long that the routine has become second nature. It’s almost like muscle memory now—checking safety equipment, making sure the emergency exits are clear, greeting passengers with a bright smile. The tasks are easy to execute, but the mental strain is something most people don’t see. Sometimes, I think the hardest part of this job isn’t the long hours or the cramped spaces—it’s the people. The ones who don’t think twice about the human beings serving them. They expect smiles and politeness, but never stop to wonder if I have a life beyond this plane, beyond the constant performance I give. Today, however, something feels different. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s this... hum of tension in the air as I make my way through the usual pre-flight checks. Perhaps it’s the weather, maybe it’s the unusually large number of first-class passengers today, or it could be that Adrian Blackwell’s name is on the manifest. I try not to let the thought of h

I never thought I'd find myself in this situation. Not because I didn't like the idea—no, that wasn’t the issue. It was more because, somewhere deep down, I knew I did like it. I liked it more than I should. More than was rational. It had been a few days since the flight. The one where I'd felt that strange, almost electric pull between Adrian and me. I couldn't quite explain it, but something about the way he observed me, the way his eyes lingered just a moment too long, made me feel... seen. And not just in the usual way, but really seen. Like he could strip away the walls I’d worked so hard to build and find the person underneath. I wasn’t sure if I liked that. In fact, I was sure I didn’t. But when his message came through, my heart did a strange little skip in my chest. “Dinner tonight?” it said. Simple. Direct. And… unexpected. I read the message over and over, as if maybe the second or third time, I’d find some hidden meaning, some way to explain it away. But no. There it wa