Fading Echoes

Special Chapter 1.1

How did Greggy survive the plane crash?

Greggy

As I sat in the crowded airport lounge, the atmosphere around me suddenly shifted. It started as a low murmur, whispers spreading like wildfire among the passengers. People's heads were turning towards the TV screens mounted on the walls, eyes wide in disbelief. The first words I managed to make out sent a chill down my spine: "Plane crash."

I instinctively reached for my phone, my pulse quickening. The flight number flashed on the screen—different from ours, but it didn't matter. A plane had gone down, and panic was setting in. My thoughts immediately jumped to Irene. She would have seen the news by now, and I knew exactly what she'd be thinking. Her mind would jump to the worst-case scenario: that it was our flight.

I dialed her number, needing to hear her voice. The line didn't even connect. Frowning, I tried again. And again. Nothing. Not even a ring. I glanced around, noticing others trying their phones too, looking just as frustrated. It didn't take long before someone confirmed it: "There's a signal outage."

I cursed under my breath. Of all times for a signal outage, it had to be now. I could almost picture Irene, pacing back and forth, her hand on her belly, worry etched across her face. She was six months pregnant with our baby boy, and the last thing I wanted was for her to be in distress like this.

I tried to stay calm, but the news was relentless. Every few minutes, they'd flash new footage or updates about the crash. I kept my eyes glued to the departure board, hoping for some news on our flight status. It remained delayed for what felt like an eternity, then finally, the dreaded announcement came over the speakers: "Flight 672 to Manila has been cancelled."

Great. Just great.

I wanted to throw my phone in frustration, knowing full well that Irene was probably imagining the worst. The silence from me would only make it worse. I could feel the panic starting to rise within me, knowing she'd be freaking out.

I tried calling her again. Still nothing. My jaw tightened. Every time I tried, I imagined her sitting there, heart racing, waiting for any sign that I was okay. She didn't deserve this stress, especially not now.

I raked a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up. The crash was all over the news—headlines blaring about casualties, emergency responses, debris. Each update only deepened the pit in my stomach, and I knew Irene would be glued to the TV, fearing the worst.

I had to get home. I had to find a way to let her know I was okay. But for now, all I could do was sit in this damned airport, helpless.

Hours passed, and the weight of the situation was pressing down on me with every second. I kept trying Irene's number, praying for the signal to come back. The news of the crash still played on the airport's screens, and each update felt like a fresh punch to the gut. I couldn't even imagine what Irene must be thinking—how long had it been since she'd heard from me? Five hours? Six?

Suddenly, my phone vibrated. A flood of notifications poured in all at once. My heart raced as I opened my messages. They were from everyone—my parents, Irene's family, our friends—but it was Irene's messages that hit me hardest.

10:15 AM:
"Greggy, please call me. I'm worried."

10:45 AM:
"I'm seeing something about a plane crash... Greggy, where are you? Please."

11:30 AM:
"I'm scared. I need to know you're okay. Please, baby. Call me."

12:15 PM:
"Greggy, I can't breathe. I don't know what to do. I need you to come home. Please. Please call me."