If Only

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Breaking Point

JADE

It had been ages since I last set foot in this private jet, the very one my father favored for his business ventures. Stepping aboard, we were greeted by the attentive staff. The cabin, unexpectedly spacious, boasted higher ceilings than your typical commercial airliner, giving an undeniable sense of openness.

The plush leather seats were arranged in a club-style layout, facing one another. The lighting cast a warm, intimate glow, evoking a feeling of homeliness. I now understood why my father preferred this space; it felt more like home to him.

Every detail exuded luxury, from the moment we crossed the threshold. Settling into our seats, a row of four facing each other, we found a table in the middle. The staff efficiently stowed our luggage in their designated places, allowing us to finally take our seats. I sat near the window, Tyrone beside me, with Drew and Agatha opposite us.

Agatha seemed positively awestruck from the moment we entered. "This is like twice the size of my dad's..." she marveled, her eyes sweeping over the expanse of the cabin.

A woman in her mid-twenties approached us with a warm smile, her uniform impeccable. She kindly informed us, "If you'd like to rest, there are private rooms at the back where you can settle in comfortably..."

We expressed our gratitude and placed our food orders before she left.

Agatha was bubbling over with excitement, clapping her hands like a child on Christmas. "Thank god Tyrone woke me up in time. If not, I wouldn't be here to join you guys for Thanksgiving..." she exclaimed, to which Tyrone chuckled in response.

"Well, you were about to tear my head off when I woke you up earlier, but you're welcome..."

All four of us shared a laugh. "By the way, thanks for inviting us for Thanksgiving dinner. We'd be stuck in our dorm rooms in London if it weren't for your dad's invitation," Agatha said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand, absentmindedly playing with it as she spoke.

I shot her a warm smile.

I could feel Tyrone subtly watching me from his seat. I shifted uncomfortably, clearing my throat in the hope of signaling that his scrutiny was making me uneasy. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to get the message.

"Ty, seriously, you should take a picture; it'll last longer..." Agatha teased Tyrone, snapping him back to reality.

"What? I-I wasn't-"

"Oh, come on, as if you're not drooling over Jade. I can see drool on your mouth now..." Agatha playfully taunted Tyrone, earning a giggle from me, which I quickly covered with my hand.

I never thought they could be this playful. Agatha's straightforwardness brought a lively dynamic to our group.

As the pilot's announcement came through the speakers, signaling that we were about to take off, I turned to gaze out the window. The engine's roar and the gentle vibration of the jet added to the anticipation.

Beside me, Tyrone grew tense, pressing his head against the cushion, his face set.

As the jet started to accelerate, Tyrone's grip on his seat tightened. His next move was entirely instinctual, a reaction to the jet's motion; he placed his hand on mine, resting on the armrest.

I don't think he realized how firmly he was gripping my hand. I didn't call him out on it; I sensed his tension as the pressure built with the increasing acceleration.

I let him hold my hand as long as he needed.

As we left the ground behind, I felt the weightlessness set in, a signal that we were now airborne. Tyrone's grip on my hand began to ease.