Finally, our flight had landed at Heathrow Airport. After the last remaining passenger had disembarked, I heaved a sigh of relief that everything had proceeded smoothly. There had been no passenger complaints and no outbursts of temper. There had been no loud, non-stop crying of babies. Everyone seemed satisfied.
My crew began cleaning the cabins. Rubbish was collected and thrown into bins. Seats were put upright. Every window blind was opened so that the outside world could be seen. The toilets were cleaned. After everything was spick and span, I led the crew to disembark the plane. We went through immigration clearance like all the passengers before us, then proceeded to collect our baggage. Outside, an airline van was waiting to transfer us to the hotel.
In the van, I took out my mobile phone and switched it on. There were 99 missed calls from my mother. My heart skipped a beat. My hands trembled as I put the phone close to my ear. My mother answered my call on the first ring.
"Athirah?"
"Is everything okay, mum?" I asked. Every word gushed out at supersonic speed. I felt panicky due to the 99 missed calls. This had never happened before.
"Where are you?"
"Just arrived in London," I replied, my heart pounding.
"Charing Cross Hospital. Come quickly. Your dad needs you," my mother demanded urgently. She did not explain what had happened.
I ended the call and asked the driver to stop. I had to go. My father needed me.
YOU ARE READING
Tangled Dreams
General Fiction8 people. 2 countries. 1 life. Just how tangled up can one be in pursuit of dreams? Experience the journey of different walk of lives as each of them pursue a dream that might or might not be theirs. And in that pursuit, do they know for sure what i...
