20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Two

I stay quiet, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I never liked sleeping on planes, so I tap through the movie list on the screen in front of me and pick one. Some scenes hit hard—I almost tear up. That's when I catch him. He's staring at me.

Wait, was he watching me this whole time?

I pretend I didn't notice, but his eyes stay fixed. I start to feel a little awkward. Was it because I got emotional watching the movie?

Then it hits me. I finally get a chance to return the embarrassment he caused earlier. Time for a little payback.

"You want something?" I ask, trying to keep a straight face as I echo his earlier words.

His face flushes bright red. Oh? He's blushing? I didn't expect that. I mean, I didn't even think he had emotions—he's been acting so cold.

"I mean... is there anything wrong?" I soften my tone a bit. I didn't really want to hurt him. I was just teasing.

He shrugs, looking down at his phone. So that's it? He's going to ignore me for the rest of the flight?

My thoughts drift again. I still can't believe I'm leaving my country. I won't sleep in my bed tonight. I won't wake up to the view from my window. Will the new bed even feel right?

Suddenly, the plane shakes—hard. The windows rattle. My heart jumps. I grip the seat arms so tightly I accidentally hit his hand.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" I say quickly. Thank God he doesn't react. He could've used that to throw more attitude, but he didn't even flinch. Actually, he looks a bit annoyed by the turbulence too. Good. It's not just me.

Then the shaking starts again.

For a second, all I can think about is: What if we crash?

Grandma once told me how scared she was on her first flight and how nothing happened. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. I look around—the other passengers seem calm, even sleepy. Maybe it's normal.

But then... I smell fuel.

I turn to him. "Do you smell that? Is it normal?"

"Huh?" He looks at me, his blue eyes as calm as ever. Ugh, focus, Twy!

"I mean... the fuel. I smell it."

He leans back a bit and sniffs. "I've never smelled fuel before on a flight. But it's faint. Probably nothing."

His calm tone helps a little, but the smell gets stronger—and now other passengers start murmuring.

I unbuckle my seatbelt for the first time and rush toward the front, searching for a flight attendant—or better yet, Mom and Dad.

I catch a glimpse of a crew member's face. She looks... terrified.

"What's happening?" I practically scream.

"Everyone, return to your seats. Please return to your seats," the flight attendants repeat over and over, but they're tense, pale, and clearly shaken.

I feel dizzy. I try to find Mom and Dad, but the way is blocked. The seatbelt light flashes on. I run back to my seat and buckle in, heart pounding.

The guy next to me—he's gone.

Screams erupt.

My heart drops. "Oh my God." I whisper it, then louder: "Oh my God!"

I spot him arguing with flight attendants in the aisle. Then I shut my eyes and start praying.

"Please, God, I don't want to die now. Please," I whisper through sobs. "I know I mess up sometimes, but I swear I love You. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

A sudden touch breaks my spiral. I open my eyes. It's him. He's back, gently rubbing my hand, looking at me—not cold, not distant, but... human.

I cry harder.

"We're gonna die," I say through shaky breaths. "Please, ask God to forgive you. I didn't even want to travel. I hate planes!"

"We're not going to die. I'm not going to die," he says sharply.

I blink, shocked at his confidence—or arrogance. How can he be so sure?

"I just want to see my mom and dad before anything happens," I say, trying to flag down a flight attendant.

But no one stops. Chaos spreads. People scream, attendants rush back and forth. The plane feels like it's moving in waves—up, down, up again.

God, I hope we're not over the ocean. I can't even swim.

Then the captain's voice booms through the speakers:

"We're experiencing technical issues. Due to severe weather, we may attempt an emergency landing. Please remain in your seats with seatbelts fastened. Stay calm so the crew can assist everyone properly."

Stay calm? Really?

The attendants keep repeating it like a broken record, but it's no use. Panic has already taken over the cabin.

I close my eyes again, heart racing, and grip the armrest so hard my fingers ache. Please, God, don't let this be the end.