Fading Echoes

Alternate Ending

What if Greggy took Flight 672?

Irene

I remember the moment vividly, a scar etched deep into my soul, as if time itself had frozen. I sat in the living room with my parents, anticipation thrumming in my chest, eagerly awaiting Greggy's call. I could almost hear the excitement in his voice as he boarded Flight 672, the one that would bring him home to me. We were on the brink of everything we had dreamed of—our family, our future—so close I could almost reach out and touch it.

I had been waiting for Greggy's call, his familiar voice filled with excitement as he returned home to me. We had so much to plan, and so much to look forward to.

But instead, I got the news no one could ever prepare for.

Flight 672 had gone down.

At first, my mind refused to believe it. It couldn't be real. I called his phone a dozen times, leaving messages that grew more frantic with each passing minute, each one begging for him to pick up, to tell me he was okay. But there was only silence on the other end, a chilling emptiness that began to weigh heavily on me. The next few days were a blur of shock and disbelief. I drifted through them like a ghost, clutching my phone, praying for a call back, a text—anything to prove it wasn't true.

Then, on the news, they began showing images of the wreckage. I could barely breathe, could barely watch as each detail unfolded, each piece of debris, each flame, each flicker of wreckage. And then, the list of passengers started scrolling across the screen, each name like a knife to the chest. When Greggy's name appeared, I felt my heart shatter.

"No, no, no," I whispered, the words falling from my lips as I stumbled backward. The room began to spin, my knees gave way, and I collapsed onto the floor, clutching my stomach as if it could somehow anchor me back to reality. It felt like my world had been ripped from under me. The love of my life, the father of our unborn child...gone.

I couldn't bear it. Every second was agony, every memory of him stabbing into me like shards of glass. I heard his laugh echo in my mind, the warmth of his touch, the way he'd look at me as if I was his whole world. And now, he was gone.

"Please...come back to me, Greggy," I sobbed, my voice hoarse. I buried my face in my hands, but the tears wouldn't stop, my chest heaving with each broken cry. The pain was relentless, suffocating me.

I hadn't just lost him. I'd lost every dream we'd built, every future we'd imagined.

Our dreams, our plans, our family — it all shattered in that moment. How could he be gone? How could the life we envisioned be snatched away so suddenly? My hands instinctively cradled my belly, his baby, the only part of him I had left.

I was on the floor, knees pressed against my chest, as if holding myself together could keep the pieces of my world from falling apart. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by my own desperate sobs. And then, through the fog of my grief, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Irene," I heard Ate Imee's voice, soft yet steady. She knelt down beside me, pulling me into her arms without a word, her own tears mirroring mine. I clung to her, feeling the weight of her presence, grounding me as everything around us felt like it was spinning out of control.

"He can't be gone, ate," I choked out, my voice breaking. "He promised he'd be here... He promised he'd come back."

"I know, I know, ading ko..." she whispered, her voice thick with grief. She stroked my hair, rocking me gently, the way a mother soothes her child. "Greggy loves you so much, Irene. I don't know why this happened, but ate's here, we're here. We'll get through this together."